CHAPTER XI.
PHILLIP LAWSON HAS GAINED AN ALLY.
It is needless to say that Cousin Jennie was a welcome visitor at "Sunnybank." Her bright presence shone everywhere from the drawing-room to that particular spot dedicated to the sports of the romping, noisy boys.
"We will have the jolly times," was the password of the latter;
"Cousin Jennie is the girl to help us fellers along."
And there was the usual stir and bustle necessary for the equipment of Evelyn Verne's trousseau. The beauty had scarce time to think of anything but the different styles of dresses, pretty bonnets, delicate laces, and the most costly trifles, from the gorgeous fan to the delicate tiny slippers.
"Dearest Eve, I should think you would be tired looking over such a lot of things," exclaimed Cousin Jennie in her cheery tone, "really my eyes would get sore in less than no time."
"What a speech, Cousin Jennie. Indeed, you are not so unsophisticated as you confess to be," said the dark-eyed fiancee, with a tinge of sarcasm accompanying the words.
"Well, fair cousin, much as I may lose caste by my confession, I cannot help it,—you know the country folks never see grand weddings, and I may say truthfully that I never expect to see so much finery again."
"Then you ought to make good use of your eyes now," was the rather ungracious reply.
As Evelyn stood amid the heap of boxes, arranging and rearranging the delicate fabrics to her heart's content, she was not an object of envy. She was flattering, herself that she was moving a grand marriage and she never let her thoughts wander beyond that well-defined boundary line. Hers was a nature seemingly devoid of feeling and incapable of fine thought, and when she artfully feigned such in the presence of her lover, it was only from a desire to make him more completely her slave.
Jennie Montgomery was not many days at "Sunnybank" ere she saw a glimpse of the world from a fashionable society standpoint.
"Oh, Madge, how can Eve marry that man? You surely do not like him either?"
Jennie Montgomery had favorable opportunity of passing judgment upon Montague Arnold the previous evening, and now she had directed her appeal to her favorite cousin.
"I will be candid, Jennie. You know I never could admire, much less respect, an unprincipled man—I mean a man who lives for his own sordid pleasure—and my sister will have cause to repent the rash step. Poor Evelyn; she has faults, but really she has many good traits of character if her pride would not stand in the way."
Sweet, confiding Marguerite. She fain would shield her sister from censure, and hoped for her a brighter future than she durst picture.
While at "Sunnybank" Jennie Montgomery saw much to like and dislike. She met many kind-hearted women whose mission on earth was to do good. With the keen, discriminating acuteness peculiar to this maiden, she could sift the wheat from the chaff—she inherited this gift from her far-sighted mother, and was happy in such possession.
But there was one who claimed due attention from Cousin Jennie.
Phillip Lawson of late had made several calls at the Verne mansion and had received a more than hearty welcome from Mr. Verne.
The latter held young Lawson in high respect and took no pains to conceal the fact—which was not lost upon the deliberating Mrs. Verne; but she was cautious, knowing well that moderation was the surest way to overcome opposition.
Within a short time the young barrister and Cousin Jennie became the best of friends. They chatted together without interruption and to the evident delight of Mrs. Verne seemed happy in each other's company.
Jennie was of a quick, decided turn of mind and had a dash of sentiment in her nature that might have been considered dangerous on this occasion; but her whole-souled sense of honor would have saved her from taking a step from the path of right.
"It is the best thing that ever happened, mamma," exclaimed Evelyn Verne as she stood arrayed in an elegant velvet reception dress which she was admiring before the large plate-mirror in her dressing-room.
"I will forgive Jennie of all her rudeness and country ways if she will only rid us of this importunate suitor," said Mrs. Verne, giving the lengthy train a few more touches to add to its effect.
"He seems very much in love with her at present," replied Evelyn,
"and indeed they are just suited for each other. It is to be hoped
Mr. Lawson will find one more congenial to his rustic manner than
Madge."
"Of course, my dear, you don't think Jennie very rustic in her ideas, but she has a certain odd way about her that is not the highest mark of good breeding."
"Common sense, as her wise-headed mother terms it," remarked Evelyn, with a scornful curl upon the otherwise pretty lips.
On the following evening Mr. Verne entered the small back parlor adjoining the library. Mrs. Verne was seated at a daintily-carved ebony work-table. A piece of silk lay upon her knee and many shades of crewel were spread out before her.
"Busy, my dear?" queried the husband, greeting his wife in a pleasant, quiet way.
"Really, Stephen [Note: hand-written, 'Richard' inked out], have you found time to venture in here? Surely there must have been a mistake somewhere," returned Mrs. Verne, in an affected and patronizing manner, that from a quick-tempered man would have forced a hasty and perhaps disagreeable speech.
But Mr. Verne sat down and commenced asking such stray questions as came into his mind.
"Where have the girls gone to-night, Matilda?"
"Jennie and Marguerite, you mean?" queried Mrs. Verne, dexterously weaving the bright silks into a pretty many-hued flower.
"It is the night of the concert, and they have accepted Mr. Lawson as escort." A slight frown accompanies the speech.
"Indeed," said Mr. Verne, with a knowing look upon his face, then turning abruptly towards his wife, added, "It seems to me that Jennie has made an impression upon Mr. Lawson."
"I hope so," was the only reply.
Mr. Verne was bent upon forcing from his wife the true state of her feelings towards his young favorite.
"Jennie will be a lucky girl if she can win such a prize," said he, with considerable warmth of expression.
"He is, indeed, a very suitable husband for Jennie," replied Mrs.
Verne in icy chilling tones.
"He is a fit husband for any young lady in St. John, my dear. If he were to look with favor upon Marguerite I should say she, sweet child that she is, would be honored by the proposal of marriage from such a man."
This was too much for Mrs. Verne. It aroused her temper and gave opportunity for many harsh, bitter sayings. Then she found relief in sarcasm.
"I am pleased to know that Mr. Lawson occupies such a proud place in your esteem. No doubt you have been making a few encouraging suggestions to this second Gladstone." Then changing her tones to a higher key exclaimed, "Remember, I will not oppose you in this step, but If will never sanction my child's encouragement of that upsetting, half-starved lawyer."
"Please bear in mind, Matilda, that Mr. Lawson has never once spoken to me upon the subject and it is very foolish to suppose that he wishes to pay any attention to Marguerite otherwise than any young gentleman might."
"You need not think to hoodwink me, I can see for myself, and it seems too bad that when a mother expects her children to become well settled in life that she is sure to be disappointed."
Mrs. Verne within a few moments entirely changed her course of action. She was almost moved to tears and her manner seemed to say, "Well, I suppose it is all for the best, come what will I am prepared for it." But might we not quote the words of the Psalmist, "The words of his mouth were sweeter than butter but war was in his heart."
A clever thought had entered Mrs. Verne's mind. She is already armed for the occasion hoping that she will come off victor.
"Well, my dear, we will not quarrel over this matter. It seems so foolish, knowing it is only conceit on our part, for I believe that Mr. Lawson is very much interested in Jennie Montgomery."
"Jennie has grown to be a fine girl," remarked Mr. Verne, in a matter-of-fact way.
But the fact did not change his opinion as regards the preference for Marguerite.
"It would perhaps be better that such would be the case," exclaimed the parent, as he was once more closeted in his private apartments looking ever the list of bills and documents awaiting his signature.
In the meantime Mrs. Verne had found her way into the drawing-room, where she was soon after joined by Evelyn and her distinguished betrothed. What a smile greeted the seemingly happy pair! In languid, drawling tones the beauty was relating her adventures of the previous afternoon—the calls made, and the making of a new acquaintance.
"A gentleman from England, did you say, my dear? How delightful! I shall be most happy to meet him."
"And so you shall, dear mamma, for he intends calling upon us very soon."
Mr. Arnold seemed not to notice the radiant smile which illuminated the countenance of his betrothed. Yet it gave him annoyance.
He bit his upper lip and bent closer over the new song that lay open before the piano. "She will sing a different tune before long," was his comment.
In truth Montague Arnold possessed not that feeling which can only be cherished by true, unselfish love. He openly admired Evelyn Verne for her beauty. His sole desire was to make her his, and bend her to his will. His nature was too superficial to harbor jealousy, but his stubborn vanity answered the purpose.
Ah, my peerless Evelyn! you may blush and smile at the well-timed compliments of your admirers now, but your reign seems nearly at an end!
"What a grand opportunity to give a party," exclaimed Mrs. Verne, glancing at her daughter for approval.
"It would be just the thing, mamma," said Evelyn, in her nonchalant and dreamy sort of air.
"You are already settled my dear and now I must try to do my duty towards Marguerite. Really, dearest, you have no idea of the anxiety I have about that girl. She is so much like her father that I am at a loss how to act. You know that she secretly adores that good-for-nothing lawyer and if it were only on her part I would not care, but I am certain that he is head and ears in love with her. Dear me! What a world of trouble we poor mothers have to endure. Why do not our children see as we do?"
Poor Mrs. Verne! She seemed in much distress and assumed a woebegone appearance.
Dear mamma—I think you ought to feel less uneasiness just now for I verily believe that Cousin Jennie has designs upon our unfortunate visitor."
"God grant that she may be successful," was the reply.
"You must encourage it in every way, dear mamma," said Evelyn, with more earnestness than usual.
"Yes; I was just thinking of a plan which doubtless by clever management, will succeed."
"Let me hear it, mamma," said Evelyn, raising her jewelled fingers, cautiously.
Mrs. Verne glanced in the direction of the smoking-room, (whither her future son-in-law had retired to enjoy the delightful weed,) and finding that there was no fear of interruption for the next ten minutes, cleverly sketched out her plan of action.
We will not give the outline of this cleverly devised speech, but merely say that from this time Cousin Jennie was honored to her heart's content, and was induced to remain much longer than she intended.
Mr. Lawson was a frequent visitor, and to the great delight of Mrs.
Verne signified his intention of accepting the invitation of Mrs.
Montgomery to spend part of his summer vacation at "Gladswood."
"That will certainly put an end to all your fears, mamma," said Evelyn, standing before the bronze mantel shelf admiring a pretty and rare vase which had arrived from England as a wedding present from an old school mate. And so matters went quietly along.
Mr. Verne kept his counsel and worked away amidst his folios, And when his pet daughter shed a ray of sunshine over the matter-of-fact apartment, he felt a tinge of sadness and fondly hoped that no darkening clouds should burst over this idolized treasure.
"What a pity that such a being should ever know the meaning of the word sorrow. In one way, my darling, I can save you, in another I cannot."
Mr. Verne was almost convinced that Cousin Jennie had supplanted
Marguerite, and he well knew the proud nature of the latter.
"Perhaps it is all for the best. My pearl could never outweigh all difficulties like the self-reliant Jennie." Such murmurs escaped the lips of the fond parent as he glanced up and down the long row of figures balancing his accounts with a rapidity only acquired by long experience and constant practice. But what of Marguerite?
The girl was not unhappy. She lived on cheered by her happy, dreamy nature, and as it was far above that allotted to ordinary mortals, it sustained her and kept her mind above all sordid thoughts.
"Time has laid his hand
Upon my heart, gently, not smiting it,
But as a harper lays his open palm
Upon his harp to deaden its vibrations."