CHAPTER XIII.
MARGUERITE AT "GLADSWOOD."
Reader, another glimpse of life at "Gladswood," and in this inviting
retreat imagine Marguerite. Great indeed, was the delight of Jennie
Montgomery, when, on a shining, bright May morn, she set forth from
"Sunnybank," accompanied by her favorite cousin.
"Take good care of my Madge, Jennie. You see she is of two-fold value now. I cannot afford to lose my second daughter for a very long time."
Mr. Verne had arrived at the railway station in time to see the girls off, and his parting injunction to Jennie was playful, and partook more of the nature of a brother than that of a parent.
In the companionship of sympathetic natures he was warmhearted, affectionate and familiar, but in ordinary moods thoughtful and reserved, and at times gloomy.
"Jennie, do you think it possible for any girl to love her father as much as I do mine," asked Marguerite, as she leaned forward and waved adieu, then throwing a kiss sat down beside her companion.
"What a question," cried Jennie. "I hope you don't imagine I care one straw less for my dear old man than you do for yours, my sweet, saucy coz. You really must be punished."
Cousin Jennie gave her companion a hearty shake and the subject dropped.
Friends and acquaintances coming in at Torryburn claimed their attention and when they arrived at Rothesay a greater reinforcement came—a party of pic-nickers going to Hampton to feast upon the beauties of that pretty rural town, and divide the remainder of the day between the delicacies of the luncheon baskets and the more delicious bits of gossip common to such gatherings.
"Miss Verne, I really did not expect to see you to-day!" cried a sprightly miss, springing towards her at no gentle rate.
The girl was Lottie Lawson, her bright young face beaming with excitement and happiness.
"I have been at Rothesay for a week, and just think, Miss Verne,
Phillip has not found time to come and see me."
Lottie's manner expressed that of a deeply-wronged maiden, and
Marguerite broke forth in a ripple of silvery laughter. Cousin
Jennie also joined, and the infection spread to the aggrieved
sister, whose child-like, musical tones were refreshing to all.
"How I should like to go as far as Sussex! but my visit ends to-morrow, and Phillip will expect me," said Lottie, in a half regretful tone.
"But you can come with Mr. Lawson during his vacation. He has promised me to come to 'Gladswood' then."
"How funny that everything seems to come contrary! I have promised to go to Woodstock."
Having reached the Hampton station Marguerite glanced out of the window.
It was fortunate that Cousin Jennie was at that moment deeply engaged in conversation with a lady in the next seat. A blush mantled a maiden's cheek, then left her a shade paler than before.
"Brother Phillip—" In another instant the child was in her brother's arms. "You bad brother, you did not come to see me, I was just telling Miss Verne."
The young barrister then espied the latter and holding his sister by the hand walked to the front of the platform.
"I must soon steal her away for a few days, Mr. Lawson. If business did not interfere, I should feel like making a second raid and secure another citizen."
Cousin Jennie spoke in a way that one seldom hears. Her artless, heartfelt manner, was acceptable to our friend, and with true gentlemanly grace, he bowed acknowledgment.
One of the picnic party—a vinegar-faced woman of forty-five, with two eligibles at her side—declared to a very intimate friend that she thought it very queer that Miss Verne should be following at Mr. Lawson's heels all the time. "For the life of me I can't see why girls will make themselves so ridiculous. Why, I often see her cutting across the Square to overtake him."
"Oh, indeed; the girls now-a-days don't have much modesty. Just see how she is laughing and talking now," exclaimed the confederate.
"Yes," retorted the first speaker "and that country-looking cousin is just a cloak for them. She is watching a chance to catch some others of the firm."
"Nice looking, did you say? Not a bit of it. For my part, I think she is homely; her face is too round and red."
The last remark was made by a saucy-looking maiden of sixteen, who owned to nothing being good that did not belong to herself.
Marguerite was utterly unconscious of the comments made upon herself and companion.
In the minutes that Mr. Lawson remained they found much to say, and there was an absence of coquetry that was gracious to see. The thoughtful, yet bright, expression of Marguerite's eyes had power to magnetize the most callous-hearted, and on this morn they were truly dangerous. The graceful form, attired in pretty travelling costume, could not fail to attract notice, and we see her repeatedly acknowledge the recognitions of many of the sterner sex with her quaint rare smile.
Just as the train was starting a voice exclaimed, "Miss Verne here are some violets, I brought them purposely to match your eyes." The fairy-like child placed the treasures in Marguerite's hand and bounded away without further comment.
"She is a good child," said Phillip, waving adieu to his companion and hurrying towards the carriage awaiting him.
Cousin Jennie now came forward demanding a share of the violets.
"Mr. Lawson thinks so much of her that I almost love him!" cried she vehemently. "And she is so cute, I'm sure her brother cannot pay such pretty compliments, Madge!"
Marguerite smiled and glanced far away over the distant hills, crowned with trees and foliage already flaunting themselves in holiday attire.
At that moment Phillip Lawson was thinking over a host of compliments, which if repeated would have caused Marguerite Verne's spirituelle face to glow with maiden blushes.
But let us believe—
"One truth is dear, whatever is, is right,"
and leave each to the free range of thought indulged in at the self-same moment.
The lovely views of nature on this lonely morn soon claimed
Marguerite's attention.
"If the world were all so fair! Oh, how charming!" exclaimed the latter rising from her seat and drinking deep of the glowing beauty of hill and dale, beautifully undulating expanse of green carpeted fields lying in the distance, the purple mountain tops glowing with regal splendour and above all the ethereal dome of heavenly blue with fleecy clouds in fantastic shapes and trooping along in gay and festive march across the boundless field.
As the spire of Apohaqui Church gleamed in the distance Jennie caught her companion by the arm exclaiming, "Madge, I cannot realize that we are going to have your dear old self for three long weeks. I hope papa will be at the station to meet us."
"If not what matter; I love to take good long walks."
"And so do I, my pretty coz; just wait until I trot you out over the hills and far away," said Jennie, giving her companion a pinch on the ear that caused it to assume a crimson dye. Sussex Vale, in all its loveliness now came within sight.
"My own, my native land," cried Jennie, in high glee, as she eagerly looked for the guard of honor that would be awaiting the arrival.
"I thought so. Look Madge."
The latter saw a group of merry children, a respectable-looking man, whose good-natured face could belong to none other than Uncle William Montgomery.
"Wasn't it lucky that you came on a Saturday, Cousin Marguerite; it is just lovely in the fields now."
The bright-eyed urchin had claimed a seat beside the delighted maiden with all the airs of a gallant, and jealously guarded all access from the other unfortunates.
"Hal is not going to ride beside Cousin Marguerite to-morrow, for I will get in first," whispered a younger lad to his confidante— Jennie.
"Yes, Jimmie, you shall have fair play. Count on me as your champion," whispered the former in conciliatory tones.
It is needless to speak of the beauty of Sussex Vale. Did ever passenger travel along the Intercolonial "with soul so dead" as not to be stirred with a sense of the beautiful as he neared this delightful spot.
On this golden May morn Marguerite was indeed intoxicated with delight. But she could not remain in silent admiration, for Master Hal's attentions demanded recognition, and after chatting gaily for half an hour the phaeton deposited its smiling load upon the terrace at "Gladswood."
Truly "Gladswood," for upon every side arose some sight to make glad the heart.
There stood the warm-hearted and energetic mistress, her genuine soul stamped upon every lineament of the plain but inviting face.
"And you did make out to come, Marguerite!" exclaimed Mrs.
Montgomery giving the girl a warm, hearty kiss.
"Yes, we've got her now and the city folks can do without her until we are ready."
At this ambiguous declaration the gallant Hal gave his head a defiant toss and gathering up an array of sundry feminine indispensibles made towards a side entrance where he deposited the said articles.
"Cousin Marguerite come out and see the calves." We have two of the loveliest little creatures with large eyes and such pretty white spots! And you would think they had their foreheads banged!"
"Well, they must be very pretty, Jimmie," said Marguerite, laughing heartily at the lad's description.
"Now children do let Cousin Marguerite have time to draw her breath before you tease her to death about your stock," said Aunt Hester with an amused look upon her face.
"Cousin Marguerite will excuse herself to the company," cried Jennie, motioning Marguerite to follow her and the latter was soon snugly ensconced in the cosiest and most inviting chamber that one ever beheld.
It was not the spare room but a smaller one adjoining that of Cousin
Jennie.
The walls, contrary to fashion, were covered with a delicate paper, a white ground sprigged with pale lavender, the paints were pure white and the hangings and draperies were transparent in their whiteness.
The neat furniture was also of a dazzling white relieved by stripes of gold and pale lavender. The old fashioned window was formed in a kind of recess which was filled with pots of the choicest flowers, while just within reach stood a large lilac bush which on the least provocation forced its branches into the room.
"Cousin Jennie, the grandeur of St. John cannot boast of a spot like this. Can it be reality." cried Marguerite, pushing aside the lilac branches and glancing out upon the enchanting landscape, which gave such effect to the pretty room.
"It is so cool," broke from the girl in rapturous tones as she eyed the bare floor with its coat of soft tinted lavender and deeper shaded border. "You know it would be such a disgraceful thing to have an uncarpeted floor in the city."
The last remark was in tones slightly ironical, and showed that Marguerite Verne held views not in accordance with good form and fearlessly regarded the consequence.
"Of course, mother would not have a carpeted chamber in the summer season, and now, I really like it, but I fear that some of our guests are very often surprised."
It being past the noon dinner-hour a luncheon was prepared and the girls were interrupted by the indefatigable Hal knocking lustily on the chamber door.
"Really, Jennie, I would rather sit here than eat," said Marguerite, going to the mirror to re-arrange the mass of silken hair that crowned her prettily shaped head.
"I am going to take Cousin Marguerite down to luncheon," cried a voice from without.
This set both girls in a fit of laughter.
"You can't say that you did not raise a beau while in the Vale," cried Jennie, with a roguish twinkle of her eye.
"Indeed, Cousin Marguerite will hare no city chaps skulkin' 'round while I am here," cried our twelve-year old with all the airs of a dude of twenty.
Next in turn came a tramp around the proud old domain of
"Gladswood."
The stately elms seemed to extend a kindly welcome. All nature seemed to say "welcome, to Gladswood." The birds seemed to have been practising some of their latest melodies, for never did grander strains issue from their sylvan orchestra.
How pleasantly the hours glided by in this charming abode. Truly it hath been said—
"How noiseless falls the foot of time
That only treads on flowers."
"It is a fortnight to-day since I came to Gladswood," said Marguerite, one bright, sunny afternoon, as she came up the broad avenue, crowned with lovely wild flowers and such trophies as the neighboring wood afforded.
Cousin Jennie had remained at home to assist in some extra duties, and as she greeted the "spirit of the woods," as she playfully dubbed Marguerite, she was worthy of notice.
A neatly fitting light colored print wrapper, spotless in its purity; a linen collar, fastened by a silver horse shoe pin; a long, plain, white muslin apron; a neat and substantial shoe, tied with black ribbon, and high over all a crowning mass of purplish black hair, in beautiful and striking contrast.
"You radiant country maid," cried Marguerite, "stand until I admire you awhile."
Jennie was playfully turned around as an automaton in a shop window, and at length breaking forth into a merry laugh, exclaimed, "You saucy minx, please turn your wit upon some other object."
And thus amid fun, frolic and gaiety, Marguerite's visit came to an end, and on the last eve to be spent at Gladswood, the girls are seated in the old summer house enjoying an uninterrupted chat—that blissful recreation peculiar to each and every maiden.
"Madge, I am almost sorry that you came," said Jennie, taking the pretty white hand within her own. "Promise me that you will come while Mr. Lawson is here," cried the girl in a vehement and almost determined manner, while the large, brown eyes had a far-off look that she tried hard to conceal.
"It is impossible, Jennie; besides, you must not mention the matter again."
Marguerite's voice was clear and bird-like, but Jennie Montgomery fancied she felt a slight tremor in the last words uttered, and with that intuitive caution characteristic of her mother pressed the subject no further, and the warm-hearted maiden felt keenly her utter helplessness to render her companion any sympathy.
"Let us go in, Cousin Jennie," said Marguerite, in tender tones that seemed as reproach to the high-minded girl, but she heeded not, and playfully putting her arm around her companion's waist, led her into the parlor, where the rest of the family were seated around awaiting their appearance.
"Marguerite is too proud," murmured Jennie, as she sought her own room on returning from seeing her fair cousin aboard the down accommodation train which was to carry her homewards.
"Oh, my loving Marguerite, I know more than you think. I could indeed tell you much that you little dream of, but why is it thus?" and humming an old-fashioned air Jennie mechanically went back to her household duties, as if all the world were sunshine and brightness, and not a troubled thought had ever found a resting-place within her mind.