Читать книгу In the Van; or, The Builders - John Price-Brown - Страница 19

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An evening or two later, a carriage containing Sir George and Lady Head drew up at a little mansion in the West end, the residence of the retired general, Sir Charles Menzies. The house was not brilliantly illuminated, a subdued light gleaming only in a few of the windows. Evidently there would not be many guests that night. As they entered, the wide door in the deep archway was thrown open, and they were ushered into the drawing-room, where the General and his wife awaited their arrival.

"Just ourselves," exclaimed their host gaily; "a lonely old couple who have the selfishness to desire you to dine with them en famille, before they send you to the wars again."

"It is very kind of you," was the cordial response. "We are both of us delighted to come. But about the wars, General, I am afraid there are no more wars for me. It is just crossing the ocean to establish a garrison, and I assure you that I would rather command a troop and fight the enemy, than perform my allotted task."

"Still, it is all in your country's service, Colonel; and it sometimes needs greater courage to build a rampart than to fight a battle."

"You may well say that, General. Don't know but what my own case is an instance. It is a cut through the back country with only a couple of companies for a following, as though one were sneaking through the bush to escape the foe. After all, that is what it really is; for we could not in safety carry our garrison stores by the lakes."

"Yet you may have more than one brush with the enemy before you get there."

"If we do it will be all the merrier," returned Sir George with a laugh. "These Yankees are giving us as much as we can carry just now, and possibly there may be fighting on Georgian Bay before it ends."

"How soon do you sail, Sir George?" Lady Menzies asked.

"In eight days. Fortunately my wife is more contented over it than ever she was when I went to fight the armies of the Little Corporal. She always used to vow that I would never come back. Now she believes that I will."

"I think he has done fighting enough," was that lady's quick response. "To march a few hundred miles through the woods to build a garrison, and then to return home, is all they ask of him; a much better prospect—to his wife at least—than to have another fight with the French."

Dinner was announced, and the host led the way with the Colonel's wife upon his arm.

"That husband of yours is a brave fellow," was his comment; "and my lady, you need not be nervous about him. He's as true as steel, a good disciplinarian, yet one of the kindest men who ever lived."

"Perhaps you are thinking of Talavera," she answered, her face flushing with pleasure. "You know he helped some of the wounded French out of the ditch after the battle was over."

"Yes, but he made two of his own men stand in the stocks all night for letting another Frenchman run away," was his laughing answer.

When seated at the table the conversation became general, but soon drifted back to Sir George Head's prospective trip.

"It will be a new experience," exclaimed Sir Charles; "snowshoeing through Canada in January instead of marching through Spain in July."

"I have ordered my men a double supply of under garments as a safeguard," said the Colonel.

"What about night quarters on the road?" queried the hostess.

"That is where the rub will come," was his answer. "I believe there are no stopping places after leaving Montreal. But habitants and half-breeds are numerous. They are accustomed to the woods, and I intend to take a picked gang to help the men put up temporary shanties each night on the road. What is more, abundance of dead timber can be had for the cutting; and with good fires I have no doubt that we can stand the journey."

The ladies were rising from the table when a rap on the knocker announced the arrival of other guests.

"Oh, my dear!" exclaimed Lady Menzies to the Colonel's wife. "I want to introduce my sweet grand-niece to you. She has only just become a bride, and promised to come in with her husband for an hour this evening."

"We shall be delighted," was the reply. "You know Sir George still becomes enraptured over a pretty face. He always did."

The Colonel placed his hand over his heart and bowed.

"If the eyes have soul and the mouth character," he exclaimed gallantly, "I hope I'm not too old a dog, even yet, to lose my heart."

"Bravo!" cried Sir Charles. "Our little girl has both, but I am sorry to say we have seen too little of her of late."

The two ladies left the room, while the gentlemen over another glass of wine continued to talk over the wars, and the apparently dim prospect of peace.

When they entered the drawing-room a quarter of an hour later, Lieutenant Manning and his bride were there. A flash of astonishment swept over Sir George's face as he took in the situation. But it was only for a moment. Gravely, but not unkindly, he offered his greetings as Lady Menzies introduced Helen to him.

Her appearance was striking. With broad forehead, dark hair and lustrous eyes, she carried her two and twenty years very gracefully. She was not a bashful girl, just out of her teens, but a large-souled woman, who knew much of the experiences of life, and had made her choice, determined, by all that was holy, to be a help-meet for the man she had married. Though scarcely at ease, she looked up into Sir George's face with a frank smile as she received his greeting.

"I am glad to have the opportunity of meeting you," he said, looking steadily into her eyes. "Lieutenant Manning informed me that he was married; though I assure you it is a surprise to find that his wife is a relative of my old friend, the General."

"Harold did not tell you, then," she returned, with a gesture toward her husband.

"Unfortunately he did not; but perhaps it was my fault. I was so astonished that I fear I did not ask him. And how are you, Mr. Manning? I think you have been stealing a march on me."

"Is not marching a soldier's duty?" returned Harold, with a merry glance at his wife.

"Yes, but countermarching is a different thing." There was a twinkle in the gallant Colonel's eye, as he gravely shook his head, that was not discouraging.

In a veiled way, Sir George watched every movement that Helen made. Her self-control surprised him, knowing as she must that her own future as well as that of her husband were in his hands. Soon an opportunity for a personal talk presented itself.

Sir Charles had been adding to his collection of paintings, and was particularly proud of a Reynold's beauty that he had recently purchased, as well as a French landscape by Turner, who at that time was winning fame as an artist. While the others were looking intently at the delicate coloring and divine symmetry exhibited in the portrait by the Master, Helen had lingered by Turner's picture. It was one of his "Rivers of France," an illustration of the parting of lovers beneath stately trees on the banks of the Seine.

"That is a remarkable picture," said Sir George over her shoulder. "It is said to be an incident in the artist's own life. I did not know that Menzies had it, though I have seen it more than once in Turner's studio."

"I have heard of it," returned Helen, gravely. "He was, as he seems, passionately in love; pity it came to such a sad ending."

"It was her villainous stepmother's fault," said the Colonel. "She intercepted all his letters, and when the maiden believed herself forsaken, she took a woman's revenge, and made herself miserable by marrying another man."

"A miserable revenge it was," returned Helen warmly, "and one that few women would take advantage of."

"I am not so sure about that," was Sir George's grave response. "I am sorry to say I have known women do that very thing, though I acknowledge they must have been vastly foolish."

"If they had married before that long tour of his," said Helen, earnestly, "when they were both in love, the letters would not have been intercepted; and of course they would have been happy ever afterwards."

"Marriage is always a serious business," said Sir George, looking gravely into her eyes.

"Yes, I know it is." There was a little tremor in her voice this time. "But when one does it bravely and with eyes open, it is not too serious to be borne.

"And are you sure you can bear it, Mrs. Manning, whatever comes?" he asked with almost a touch of sternness in his voice.

"Yes—I believe I can."

"I too believe it since I have seen you. Still for your sake I am sorry it has happened. It would have been much better to have waited."

"For myself I believe I shall never regret it," said Helen, "whatever happens. It is only the future of my husband that I feel concerned about."

"I am glad to be able to relieve your mind on that score"—but there was sternness still in his voice. "Lieutenant Manning has always been a brave officer, and his future is certain."

"Thank you, Colonel, for the word. I know his record; and I assure you as a soldier's daughter, as well as a soldier's wife, I shall never stand in his way."

She stood very erect, but she dashed a tear away as the words flashed from her lips.

"Nobly said," was Sir George's comment as the General and the other ladies joined them. Harold had purposely wandered off to the far end of the room to inspect some ancient weapons, of which Sir Charles had a valuable collection. But he returned in time to hear their hostess ask her niece to sing.

"I cannot sing to-night as the linnets sing," she replied with a half sad, half mischievous glance at Harold, "but as my heart tells me."

"That is what we want, dearest," he whispered.

Seating herself at the piano, her fingers ran lightly over the keys. Then, in a rich contralto voice, she poured out Goethe's favorite, "To the Chosen One." There was the beauty of passion in every line of the first verse:

"Hand in hand! and lip to lip! Oh, be faithful, maiden dear! Fare-thee-well! thy lover's ship Past full many a rock must steer; But should he the haven see When the storm has ceased to break, And be happy, reft of thee— May the gods fierce vengeance take!"

There was exultation as she sang the second stanza:

"Boldly dared, is well-nigh won, Half my task is solved aright, Every star's to me a sun, Only cowards deem it night. Strode I idly by thy side Sorrow still would sadden me, But when seas our paths divide, Gladly toil I—toil for thee."

Then with all the tenderness of her impassioned soul she breathed out the last lines:

"Now the valley I perceive Where together we will go, And the streamlet watch each eve Gliding peacefully below. Oh, the poplars on yon spot! Oh, the beech trees in yon grove! And behind we'll build a cot Where to taste the joys of love."

"You are a brave girl," cried the Colonel as she finished the song, "and you well merit everything that the gods can give you. Lieutenant Manning should be proud to have you for his wife—whatever happens."

Saying which he turned and asked Lady Menzies to be his partner at a rubber of whist, for which Sir Charles and Lady Head were waiting. Hence, the four elderly people were soon interested in the game; while the bride and groom, ostensibly examining curios, were taxing their souls with a thousand questions relative to the future.