CHAPTER XXV.
"HERE AWA', THERE AWA'."
The following is an ideal Canadian winter day; the sky, a far-off canopy of brightest blue, with no clouds to obscure the sunbeams, which pour down on fair Toronto, melting the icicles when his smiles are warmest, and gladdening the hearts of the million. There is just enough of frost in the air to make a walk to town pleasant, cheering and exhilarating, so that Mrs. Dale is glad when Mrs. Gower proposes their going. The whole city seems to have turned out, and the streets are alive with the busy hum of life, and the tinkling music of the merry sleigh-bells.
Mrs. Gower, who had slept little, arose with the determination to appear reconciled to her fate, not wishing to add to the sorrow of Mr. Blair and Mrs. Dale, on her account; feeling that there will be time enough to give way, when "large lengths of miles" divide them. She cannot bear to dwell upon the separation, she has decided, is for the best, and dreads to think of her heart loneliness, with Mr. Blair gone out of her life, and the sympathy of Mrs. Dale, not beside her. How she will miss her quiet talks with him, his manly advice and interest in all her acts, the oneness of their views on many questions of the day—religious, social, and in part political. The Tremaines and Smyths also; with her many favorite walks and resorts, the public library, and other places of interest. Yes, to leave them all and her snug Holmnest, is hard; but to go on in the way events have shaped themselves—Mr. Cobbe, a privileged visitor, as her future husband; the woman haunting her home; her misery, seeing daily the grief telling on Mr. Blair would be harder still; so, nerving herself for the parting, she determines on making her preparations at once.
No one meeting the friends, as they walk into town, would imagine that the dusky shadow of sorrow sits in each heart; the pretty little face of Mrs. Dale being set off by a bonnet, with pink feathers, her seal coat and muff making her warm and comfortable. Mrs. Gower, in a heavy dark blue gown, short dolman boa and muff of the bear; a pretty little bonnet blending with her gown, the glow of heat from exercise lending color to her cheeks. Down busy Yonge street to Eaton's; Trowern's, with Mrs. Dale's watch; thence to gay King Street, to Murray's, Nordheimer's, the Public Library, back again West, and to Coleman's for a cup of coffee, are all done; at the latter place they run across Mrs. St. Clair with Miss Hall.
"Oh, you two dear pets, I am so awfully glad to have met you," says pretty Mrs. St. Clair, effusively; "I want to know when you can talk over a programme with me—tableaux, readings, etc., in aid of the debt on our church. Say when?"
"I really cannot, Mrs. St. Clair," said Mrs. Gower; "just at present I am very busy, and am daily expecting a small house party."
"Dear, dear! that is too bad; what shall I do; you are so smart, and would know just what would take. You will talk it over with me, Mrs. Dale," she said, beseechingly.
"No, thank you; on principle, I object."
"How funny! might I ask why?"