Kate Danton, or, Captain Danton's Daughters: A Novel

by May Agnes Fleming

But she had given up all for love of a handsome face; and that handsome face smiled on another now, and was lost to her forever. She choked back the rebellious throbbing of her heart, and praised the costly wedding outfit, and was glad when she could escape and be alone again. It was all bitter as the waters of Marah, to poor, widowed Rose; their forgiveness, so ready and so generous, was heaping coals of fire on her head; and at home, surrounded by kind friends and every comfort so long a stranger to her, she felt even more desolate than she had ever done in the dreary London lodgings.

But while all were happy at Danton Hall, save Captain Danton's second daughter, once the gayest among them, the days flew by, and Eveleen Danton's wedding-day dawned. Such a lovely December day, brilliant, cloudless, warm—just the day for a wedding. The little village church was crowded with the rich and the poor, long before the carriages from the Hall arrived. Very lovely looked the young bride, in her silken robe of virgin white, her misty veil, and drooping, flower-crowned head. Very sweet, and fair, and innocent, and as pale as her snowy dress, the centre of all eyes, as she moved up the aisle, on her father's arm. There were four bride-maids; the Demoiselles La Touche came from Ottawa for the occasion. Miss Emily Howard, and Miss La Favre. The bride's sisters shared with her the general admiration—Mrs. Dr. Danton; Mrs. Stanford, all auburn ringlets, and golden brown silk, and no outward sign of the torments within; Mrs. Harry Danton, fair as a lily, clinging to her sailor-husband's arm, like some spirit of the sea; and last, but not least, Captain Danton's wife, very simply dressed, but looking so quietly happy and serene. Then it was all over, and the gaping spectators saw the wedding party flocking back into the carriages, and whirling away to the Hall.

Mr. and Mrs. La Touche were to make but a brief tour, and return in time for a Christmas house-warming. Doctor Frank and his wife went to their Montreal home, and Mrs. Stanford remained at St. Croix. The family were all to reassemble at Ottawa, to spend New Year with Madame La Touche.

Rose found the intervening weeks very long and dreary at the Hall. Captain Harry had gone back to his ship, and of course Agnes had gone with him. They had wanted her to stay at home this voyage, but Agnes had lifted such appealing eyes, and clung in so much alarm to Harry at the bare idea of his leaving her, that they had given it up at once. So Rose, with no companion except Grace, found it very dull, and sighed the slow hours away, like a modern Mariana in the Moated Grange.

But the merry New Year time came round at last; and all the Dantons were together once more in Eeny's splendid home. It made Rose's heart ache with envy to walk through those lovely rooms—long vistas of splendour and gorgeousness.

"It might have been mine!—It might have been mine!" that rebellious heart of hers kept crying out. "I might have been mistress of all this retinue of servants—these jewels and silks I might have worn! I might have reigned like a queen in this stately house if I had only done right!"

But it was too late, and Mrs. Stanford had to keep up appearances, and smiles, though the serpents of envy and regret gnawed at her vitals. It was very gay there! Life seemed all made up of music, and dancing, and feasting, and mirth, and skating, and sleighing, and dressing, and singing. Life went like a fairy spectacle, or an Eastern drama, or an Arcadian dream—with care, and trial, and trouble, monsters unknown even by name.

Mme. Jules La Touche played the rôle with charming grace—a little shy, as became her youth and inexperience, but only the more charming for that. They were very, very happy together, this quiet young pair—loving one another very dearly, as you could see, and looking forward hopefully to a future that was to be without a cloud.

Mrs. La Touche and Mrs. Stanford were very much admired in society, no doubt; but people went into raptures over Mrs. Frank Danton. Such eyes, such golden hair, such rare smiles, such queenly grace, such singing, such playing—surely nature had created this darling of hers in a gracious mood, and meted out to her a double portion of her favours. You might think other ladies—those younger sisters of hers included—beautiful until she came; and then that stately presence, that bewitching brightness and grace, eclipsed them as the sun eclipses stars.

"What a lucky fellow Danton is!" said the men. "One doesn't see such a superb woman once in a century."