CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE LOVERS' MISUNDERSTANDING MADE UP—MOSES KEEPS HIS SECRET.
On the evening after his arrival in the city Phillip Lawson found his way to "Sunnybank." As he stood on the vestibule his thoughts reverted to the missing paper.
"It was so important; and now that I could have more hope than before."
It must not be presumed that the young man exulted over the reported insolvency. He fervently prayed that Marguerite Verne should have moral courage to bear up under the pressure of circumstances that must necessarily follow, but he hoped that a life of usefulness would be more acceptable than that of luxury hitherto enjoyed.
"If it were only in my power to pay off every farthing of those enormous debts gladly I would do it for her sake though she might never know who was her benefactor."
Such were the tenor of Mr. Lawson's thoughts as he advanced towards
Mr. Verne and received a hearty welcome—almost an ovation.
"Mr. Lawson, you cannot imagine how much I missed you, else you surely could not have stayed so long!" exclaimed the host springing from his chair like a boy of sixteen.
"Only five days in all, sir, since I was here."
"Five days!" cried Mr. Verne drawing his hand across his furrowed forehead as if to gain clearer perception, "five days! dear me, it seems like five months—five months."
Mr. Verne seemed for a moment or so to have forgotten that he had a guest for he was lost in thought. Presently his mind cleared.
"How did you leave all at 'Gladswood.' In fact I forgot that you were there."
Mr. Lawson then gave a brief description of the days spent at the farmhouse and was pleased to note the very great interest with which Mr. Verne listened.
The solicitor was puzzled. He expected to find his friend in a state of deep dejection, but instead he was more cheerful than usual, and seemed to be exulting over some secret or newly-found joy.
"He may be rejoicing in the thought that his child is soon to be in a position which his reverses cannot affect."
Phillip Lawson had no sooner uttered these words in an undertone, than a deep chill seemed to paralyze his muscular frame.
"Just as if that should be of import to a poor beggar like me, who has no more than can keep the wolf from the door."
Strictly speaking the last remark was somewhat hyperbolical, for as we have hitherto been informed the young solicitor's professional emoluments were now anything but scanty, but it was in the bitterness of spirit that he made use of the words.
"Have you heard from Mrs. and Miss Verne, sir."
"There, I would have forgotten! It seems to me I am getting old fast—nothing tells on a man like that," said Mr. Verne, smiling and drawing from the pigeon-hole of a small desk a neatly-folded letter.
"My little girl refers to you—listen to this"—and the fond father read a portion of the letter, in which she referred to the young lawyer, and begged that her father would convey her thanks for the very great thoughtfulness of Mr. Lawson in trying to cheer him in her absence and filling up the vacant place beside him.
"Tell him, dear papa, I shall never forget him for it—never."
Mr. Verne was deeply affected as he read the last sentence; also was his visitor.
"My Marguerite, she cares yet for her doting father. Yes, Mr.
Lawson, my child worships those who are kind to me."
"You can never fully express Miss Verne's worth, sir. I am only too happy to do anything that would secure her good wishes, for coming, as they do from one so good, they most certainly result in good."
"The man is honest," thought Phillip Lawson; "he does not wish me to think that his daughter has any other feeling than that of gratitude, and I honor him for it."
The young man glanced around the elegant parlor with its glittering furniture and costly vertu, and felt sad at the thought of the great change that was in store for the delicate girl who had been reared in the lap of luxury. He wished to refer to business, but Mr. Verne evaded him at every turn, and when he rose to go, felt somewhat uneasy and disappointed.
"There is something astir," thought Phillip, as he passed down Mecklenburg street and turned up Carmarthen, on his way home. "There is something in the wind. I can already feel it in my bones," exclaimed the young man, striding along with a rate of velocity equal to that of his thoughts.
A sudden fancy seized him. Quick as lightning it darted through every nerve and electrified him with pain.
"It must be so! Fool that I was not to see it before. Tracy has proposed in the nick of time. He has had an accomplice whom it is easy to guess. It's all up with me now, and she can send kind wishes without a feeling of restraint"
Phillip Lawson was indeed sore at heart. He reasoned long and argued the ease to the best of his ability; but love is one thing and law is another—the two abstracts cannot coincide any more than can a parallelogram coincide with an equilateral triangle. "But must I stand calmly by and make no effort to save her from such a fate. Merciful heavens! There's no clue for me to prove what I had already known. Why was I so unfortunate. Surely heaven will not suffer Hubert Tracy to accomplish his designs. I wish him no bodily harm, but I trust that he may yet atone for his deeds, and live to see the error of his ways."
By the time the solicitor reached his home he was calm and collected.
"Brother Phillip," was the first exclamation he heard; "look, are not these beautiful. Josie Jordan brought them this afternoon. She kept me laughing nearly all the time she was here telling about the fun she had at 'Gladswood'."
"Ah! the ferns are from Jennie Montgomery, I presume," said the brother, giving them a second glance of admiration.
"Yes, and the sweetest little letter you ever saw beside. Isn't she lovely, Brother Phillip?"
The petite little maiden had now nestled closely in her brother's arms; her flaxen curls showered around her in sad disorder, while one plump little arm was entwined around his neck.
"You must be dreaming, Brother Phillip. Why, you never heard my question."
"I beg your pardon, little one, for this time. Miss Jennie is all that you think her to be," replied the brother, somewhat gravely.
"Do you know what I was thinking of, you dear old brother," said Lottie, emphasizing the speech with an affectionate hugging. "I was thinking of all the nice young ladies you are acquainted with, and wondering which one I would like you to marry."
"What put such notions into your head, you silly child. Have I not a little wife already. But let me hear the rest of it."
Phillip Lawson indulged his pet sister in all her pastimes, and was now an attentive listener to her proposals.
"You know, Brother Phillip, there is Miss Verne—."
"Yes—go on," said the brother in a quick, nervous manner.
"And there's Jennie Montgomery and Louise Rutherford and Miss
Rushton and Josie Jordan, and—"
"I think you have got enough now to decide from."
"Well," continued Lottie, not appearing to notice the interruption.
"There is Miss Marguerite. I love her dearly. I feel like kissing
her picture every time I see it—well she is an angel, Brother
Phillip, and sometimes I think she is too good to marry anyone."
"A compliment to the sterner sex," remarked Phillip, in an undertone, then he exclaimed, "Child, where did you get such ideas?"
"Oh, I hear the girls in school nearly every day, and yesterday
Belle Morris asked me if I would like you to get married."
"I think the young ladies might find more profitable employment during study hours."
"Oh, we don't talk only at recess. Now please don't be angry,
Brother Phillip, for I never said anything."
"Thank you little Miss Discretion. I am very glad that you do not indulge in gossip. Listen to what Solomon says," and going to the book-case Phillip took therefrom a Bible, and read from Proverbs xvii. 9,—
"He that repeateth a matter separateth very friends."
Lottie saw that her brother did not wish to hear more on the subject, and she again took up the bunch of pressed ferns which had arrived from "Gladswood."
"I wish that I could be as good as Jennie Montgomery. Why she's scarcely ever idle one moment during the whole day, and she never seems happy but when she is helping some person. Do you know Brother Phillip the oldest people around love her, and she goes and reads to the sick and runs all the errands for the sick herself."
"I am glad you observed so closely my dear, and I hope Lottie Lawson may one day be as good a woman as friend Jennie," said Phillip very earnestly.
"Oh, I know I never can have the happy way of setting everything right that is wrong, and taking the tangles out of the most common affairs the same way that Jennie does. Oh, no, Brother Phillip, don't expect me to be anything like that."
The fond brother could not fail to see that there was a vein of good sense running all through the child's remarks, and he also noted her quaint style of application.
The appearance of Kitty, the housemaid, interrupted further reply. With a respectful air the domestic made known to her master that, owing to the death of a near relative, she had to remove to the country to take charge of a family of small children.
"Indeed, Mr. Lawson, you have been a good, kind master to me, and that angel there"—pointing to Lottie—"the likes of her is not in St. John. But I'll hear from yous often and when Tim is in town he'll run in to see how yous are gettin' on."
"And you must go immediately, I suppose?" said the young man who indeed regretted the loss of an industrious and honest domestic.
"Next Saturday, sir, Tim will be after me, and the children is a sufferin' between whiles."
"Very well, Kitty, we must do the best we can," and Mr. Lawson was already prospecting over a trip to Mrs. Lee's Intelligence Office to procure a successor to the lamented Kitty.
"Look here Brother Phillip, I believe that I can get a new girl without any trouble."
"You little one!" cried the young man, laughing at the idea of such a grave responsibility being associated with the child.
"Wait a moment until I come back," said the latter who in a very short time reappeared, breathless with anticipation.
"Yes indeed, Melindy Thrasher is going to leave Mr. Verne's—Kitty says so. Please let me go down and see. You know I am growing quite old now and ought to be able to do lots of things."
"As you wish, Lottie; but remember you must first find out if Mr.
Verne is aware of the fact."
Within a week Melindy Thrasher was duly installed as general servant in the Lawson cottage, a fact which is worthy of mention as it is connected with other important matters relative to the affairs of the solicitor.
The new help gave general satisfaction and Lottie was much amused with the girl's primitive manners, which even the associations of "Sunny bank" could not altogether affect.
One bright morning as the former was getting ready for school, she was accosted by Melindy in the following strain:
"Law sakes, Miss Lottie, how things do come 'round. Jest to think that you and the young lady that was up to Mr. Montgomery's happenin' to be the same identical one, and I was up to meetin' the same Sunday. It seems so queer that of all places I should happen to get here. But as I say there's no tellin' what may happen."
"What a coincidence it is," thought Phillip, laughing as on passing through the back parlor he overheard Melindy's remark.
He had gone to the post-office on that morning and as he took out the contents of the well-filled box discovered a letter which on opening he saw was from Marguerite.
"What can have prompted her to write. It would seem as if some one else had written it. Marguerite Verne would as soon think of cutting her right hand off as to write me unsolicited. And for what is she grateful. It seems so ridiculous when all that I have done was to entertain myself."
The young lawyer once more read over the precious missive which was written in the most simple, yet graceful style. It stirred him deeply.
It recalled the fair girl in all her spirituelle beauty, and made him doubly rebellious over the circumstances that thwarted all his hopes.
"Why was I not some heir to an earldom, for nothing less is befitting such a one," thought the young man, feeling all the bitterness that a heart can feel.
Strange indeed, that from the moment Phillip Lawson uttered these words he was a richer man, though he knew it not. He had to drink deeper of the dregs of adversity ere he shall have cause for rejoicing.
Marguerite gave short pithy accounts of her visit, and was quite enthusiastic over the wonderful sights that she saw on every hand; also, the walks, drives and various places of entertainment.
"It's no use to think any more about it. They have at length succeeded in making her what I would have one time sworn that she never would be—a woman of the world. Ah truly 'the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.' Six months ago I never could have believed that Marguerite Verne would have yielded to such worldly influence. She seemed an angel among sinners. And she speaks of Hubert Tracy in such a gushing style—so foreign to the modest high-toned sentiments which always inspired me with a love of truth."
"Can it be possible that Marguerite Verne wrote that letter?" exclaimed Phillip Lawson, holding it up before him and scrutinizing every line. Then throwing it aside, added, with a deep tone of resentment, "Is it possible that one must lose all faith in humanity?" Then, as if some good spirit had whispered better things, He raised his eyes and faintly exclaimed, "Father forgive me, I have been sorely tempted," and set about some work with a fiercer determination than ever to make his will subservient to his reason.
Melindy Thrasher had not seen more than a fortnight's service in the Lawson family when Mr. Spriggins made it convenient to stay and spend the evening.
Phillip being called away upon business the happy pair solaced themselves in the inviting back parlor, and whiled away the hour in the way that only such lovers can when one takes into consideration the candies and peanuts that were conspicuous on this occasion.
When the latch-key turned in the front door all was quiet within, and the back parlor in perfect order. Faint sounds beneath the window told the indulgent master that Melindy was taking leave of her lover.
Mr. Lawson was not guilty of eavesdropping, but what could he do—the voices became more distinct.
"I tell you what it is, Moses Spriggins, there hain't been no secrets between us afore this, and I'd like to know why you can't tell me what business took you to Mr. Verne's office. Now you know you was there just as well as you know the head is on your body."
"Come, come, Melindy—I ain't got no secrets from you. It's only a little bit of bisness that I was a-doin' for 'Squire Verne—(Mr. Spriggins had a habit of addressing all men of any importance by such appellation)—and it's his secret, not mine, and you can't blame a fellar for a-keepin' it when he is asked to do it, can you, Melindy?"
At this declaration the said Melindy was somewhat mollified, but muttered something about the two being one.
"Wal, never mind now," said Moses, "that's a dear Melindy; let's make up," and suiting the action to the word the lovers made up, and Melindy was satisfied that the secret did not belong to her affianced.
"But hold on, Melindy, how did you hear that I was at the office?
That's the stickin' pint; eh, Melindy, I've got you now."
"I ain't a-goin' to tell you, Moses Spriggins; that's my secret," said Melindy, affecting an air of disdain.
"Now you've been a-listenin', that's a sure thing, Melindy, and I think it's a-cryin' out shame to do sich a mean thing."
"Now look here, Moses Spriggins; I'm not a'goin' to stand no lecturin' from you, for if you don't like it, you can git as soon as you like, for there's Ben Buckler would give his eye tooth to cut you out!"
"Come, come, Melindy; we won't say anything more about it. We ain't a-goin' to be quarrelin' over nothin'." And very soon the lovers made up a second time, while the solicitor turned away, indulging in the same amount of curiosity as expressed by Melindy Jane Thrasher.
"It is strange, indeed. Moses is truthful. Mr. Verne has some secret, and he could have no more trustworthy confidante than the self-same Mr. Moses Spriggins," and soliloquizing thus Phillip Lawson sought the land of dreams—
"Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep."