Family Pride; Or, Purified by Suffering

by Mary Jane Holmes

Very modestly she received his congratulatory greeting, blushing prettily when he called her by the new name she had not heard before, and then at a motion from Wilford, entered the carriage waiting for her. Close behind her came Morris and Helen, the former quite as much astonished at meeting Mark as Wilford had been. There was no time for conversation, and hurriedly introducing Helen as Miss Lennox, Morris followed her into the carriage with the bridal pair, and was driven to the depot, where they were joined by Mark, whose pleasant, good-humored sallies did much toward making the parting more cheerful than it would otherwise have been. It was sad enough at the most, and Katy's eyes were very red, while Wilford was beginning to look chagrined and impatient, when at last the train swept around the corner and the very last good-by was said. Many of the village people were there to see Katy off, and in the crowd Mark had no means of distinguishing the Barlows from the others except it were by the fond caresses given to the bride. Aunt Betsy he had observed from all the rest, both from the hanging of her pongee and the general quaintness of her attire, and thinking it just possible that it might be the lady of herrin' bone memory, he touched Wilford's arm as she passed them by, and said:

"Tell me, Will, quick, who is that woman in the poke bonnet and short, slim dress?"

Wilford was just then too much occupied in his efforts to rescue Katy from the crowd of plebeians who had seized upon her to hear his friend's query, but Helen heard it, and with a cheek which crimsoned with anger, she replied:

"That, sir, is my aunt, Miss Betsy Barlow."

"I beg your pardon, I really do, I was not aware—" Mark began, lifting his hat involuntarily, and mentally cursing himself for his stupidity in not observing who was near to him before asking personal questions.

With a toss of her head Helen turned away, forgetting her resentment in the more absorbing thought that Katy was really leaving her.

The bell had rung, the heavy machinery groaned and creaked, and the long train was under way, while from an open window a little white hand was thrust, waving its handkerchief until the husband quietly drew it in, experiencing a feeling of relief that all was over, and that unless he chose, his wife need never go back again to that vulgar crowd standing upon the platform and looking with tearful eyes and aching hearts after the fast receding train.

For a moment Mark talked with Morris Grant, explaining how he came there, and adding that on the morrow he, too, intended going on to Boston, to remain for a few days before Wilford sailed; then, feeling that he must in some way atone for his awkward speech regarding Aunt Betsy, he sought out Helen, still standing like a statue and watching the feathery line of smoke rising above the distant trees. Her bonnet had partially fallen from her head, revealing her bands of rich brown hair and the smooth, broad forehead, while her hands were locked together, and a tear trembled on her dark eyelashes. Taken as a whole she made a striking picture standing apart from the rest and totally oblivious to them all, and Mark gazed at her a moment curiously; then as her attitude changed and she drew her hat back to its place he advanced toward her, and making some pleasant remark about the morning and the appearance of the country generally. He knew he could not openly apologize, but he made what amends he could by talking to her so familiarly that Helen almost forgot how she hated him and all others who like him lived in New York and resembled Wilford Cameron. It was Mark who led her to the carriage which Morris said was waiting, Mark who handed her in, smoothing down carefully the folds of her dress, and then stood leaning against the door, chatting with Morris, who thought once of asking him to enter and go back to Linwood. But when he remembered how unequal he was to entertaining any one that day, he hesitated, saying merely:

"On your way from Boston call and see me. I shall be glad of your company then."

"Which means that you do not wish it now," Mark laughingly rejoined, as, offering his hand to both Morris and Helen, he again touched his hat politely and walked away.