Читать книгу Family Pride; Or, Purified by Suffering - Mary Jane Holmes - Страница 18

Wilford Cameron expected to be obeyed in every important matter by the happy person who should be his wife, and as he possessed the faculty of enforcing perfect obedience without seeming to be severe, so he silenced Katy's arguments, and when they left the shadow of the butternut tree she knew that in all human probability six weeks' time would find her on the broad ocean alone with Wilford Cameron. So perfect was Katy's faith and love that she had no fear of Wilford now, but as his affianced wife walked confidently by his side, feeling fully his equal, nor once dreaming how great the disparity his city friends would discover between the fastidious man of fashion and the unsophisticated country girl. And Wilford did not seek to enlighten her, but suffered her to talk of the delight it would be to live in New York, and how pleasant for mother and Helen to visit her, especially the latter, who would thus have a chance to see something of the world.

"When I get a house of my own I mean she shall live with me all the while," she said, stooping to gather a tuft of wild bluebells growing in a marshy spot.

Wilford winced a little, for in his estimation Helen Lennox formed no part of that household to be established on Madison Square, but he would not so soon tear down Katy's castles, and so he merely remarked as she asked if it would not be nice to have Helen with them.

"Yes, very nice, but do not speak of it to her yet, as it will probably be some time before she will come to us, and she had better not have it in anticipation."

And so Helen never knew the honor in store for her as she stood in the doorway anxiously waiting for her sister, who, she feared, would take cold from being out so long. Something though in Katy's face made her guess that to her was lost forever the bright little sister whom she loved so dearly, and fleeing up the narrow stairway to her room she wept bitterly as she thought of the coming time when she would share that room alone, and know that never again would a little golden head lie upon her neck just as it had lain, for there would be a new love, a new interest between them, a love for the man whose voice she could hear now talking to her mother in the peculiar tone he always assumed when speaking to any one of them excepting Morris or Katy.

"I wish it were not wrong to hate him," she exclaimed passionately; "it would be such a relief; but if he is only kind to Katy, I do not care how much he despises us," and bathing her face in water Helen sat down by her window, gazing out upon the fresh green earth, where the young grass was springing, wondering if Mr. Cameron took her sister, when it would probably be. "Not this year or more," she said, "for Katy is so young;" but on this point she was soon set right by Katy herself, who, leaving her lover alone with her mother, stole up to tell her sister the good news.

"Yes, I know; I guessed as much when you came back from the meadows," and Helen's voice was very unsteady in its tone as she smoothed back the soft rings clustering around her sister's brow.

"Crying. Helen! oh, don't. I shall love you just the same, and you are coming to live with us in the new house on Madison Square," Katy said, forgetting Wilford's instructions in her desire to comfort Helen, who broke down again, while Katy's tears were mingled with her own.

It was the first time Katy had thought what it would be to leave forever the good, patient sister, who had been so true, so kind, treating her like a petted kitten and standing between her and every hardship.

"Don't cry, Nellie," she said, twining her arms around her neck; "New York is not far away, and I shall come so often—that is, after we return from Europe. Did I tell you we are going there first, and Wilford will not wait, but says we must be married the tenth of June; that's his birthday—thirty—and he is telling mother now."

"So soon—oh, Katy! and you so young!" was all Helen could say, as with quivering lip she kissed her sister's hand raised to wipe her tears away.

"Yes, it is soon, and I am young; but Wilford is in such a hurry; he don't care," Katy replied, trying to comfort Helen, and begging of her not to cry so hard.

No, Wilford did not care, as it would seem, how much he wrung the hearts of Katy's family by taking her from them at once, and by dictating to a certain extent the way in which he would take her. There must be no invited guests, he said; no lookers-on, except such as chose to go to the church where the ceremony would, of course, be performed, and from which place he should go directly to the Boston train. It was his wish, too, that the matter should be kept as quiet as possible, and not be generally discussed in the neighborhood, as he disliked being a subject for gossip. And Mrs. Lennox, to whom this was said, promised compliance with everything, or if she ventured to object she found herself borne down by a stronger will than her own, and weakly yielded, her manner fully testifying to her delight at the honor conferred upon her by this high marriage of her child. Wilford knew just how pleased she was, and her obsequious manner annoyed him far more than did Helen's blunt, straightforwardness, when, after supper was over, she told him how averse she was to his taking Katy so soon, adding still further that if it must be, she saw no harm in inviting a few of their neighbors. It was customary—it would be expected, she said, while Mrs. Lennox, emboldened by Helen's boldness, chimed in, "at least your folks will come; I shall be glad to meet your mother."

Wilford was very polite to them both; very good-humored, but he kept to his first position, and poor Mrs. Lennox saw fade into airy nothingness all her visions of roasted fowls and frosted cake trimmed with myrtle and flowers, with hosts of the Silverton people there to admire and partake of the marriage feast. It was too bad, and so Aunt Betty said, when, after Wilford had gone to Linwood, the family sat together around the kitchen stove, talking the matter over.

"Yes, it was too bad, when there was that white hen turkey she could fat up so easy before June, and she knew how to make 'lection cake that would melt in your mouth, and was enough sight better than the black stuff they called weddin' cake. Vum! she meant to try what she could do with Mr. Cameron."

And next morning when he came again she did try, holding out as inducements why he should be married the night before starting for Boston, the "white hen, turkey, the 'lection cake, and the gay old times the young folks would have playing snap-and-catchem; or if they had a mind, they could dance a bit in the kitchen. She didn't believe in it, to be sure—none of the orthodox did; but as Wilford was a 'Piscopal, and that was a 'Piscopal quirk, it wouldn't harm for once."

Wilford tried not to show his disgust, and only Helen suspected how hard it was for him to keep down his utter contempt. She saw it in his eyes, which resembled two smoldering volcanoes as they rested upon Aunt Betsy during her harangue.

"Thank you, madam, for your good intentions, but I think we will dispense with the turkey and the cake," was all he said, though he did smile at the old lady's definition of dancing, which for once she might allow.

Even Morris, when appealed to, decided with Wilford against Mrs. Lennox and Aunt Betsy, knowing how unequal he was to the task which would devolve on him in case of a bridal party at the farmhouse. In comparative silence he had heard from Wilford of his engagement, offering no objection when told how soon the marriage would take place, but congratulating him so quietly that, if Wilford had retained a feeling of jealousy, it would have disappeared; Morris was so seemingly indifferent to everything except Katy's happiness. But Wilford did not observe closely, and failed to detect the hopeless look in Morris' eyes, or the whiteness which settled about his mouth as he fulfilled the duties of host and sought to entertain his guest. Those were dark hours for Morris Grant, and he was glad when at the end of the second day Wilford's visit expired, and he saw him driven from Linwood around to the farmhouse, where he would say his parting words to Katy and then go back to New York.