"Do you believe in predestination, Mrs. Gower?" he says, abruptly.

"What next! from annexation to dogma. Tell me all about yourself, and it is too lovely an Indian summer day to remain in the house, come to my favorite seat in the garden."

"Where I shall give you an instantaneous photograph, from my father's pen, of the girl I am predestined to change the name of."

"From your father's pen!"

CHAPTER IV.

THE FOOT-BALL OF CIRc.u.mSTANCE.

As they near a knoll under a clump of trees commanding a view of the road, a gentleman sauntering up the street gazes, as many do, at Holmnest with its pretty grounds.

"Look, quick, Charlie," said Mrs. Gower, in low and rapid tones, apparently intent on spreading a rug on the rustic bench, "there he is, I mean----"

"Well, I only see a very ordinary and thoroughly independent looking man, seeming as though he feared nothing, not even you, and as if Toronto was built for him."

At this Mrs. Gower, laughing merrily, says, "And not for the Lieutenant-Governor, Mayor Howland, Archbishop Lynch, or the 'caller herrin'-man.'"

As the soft laughter fell on the air, the stranger looked towards them, and looked so intently, that involuntarily his hand is raised to his head and his hat lifted.

"You say you have not met him, Mrs. Gower; you are a very prudent woman, I must say, coming out here in your white gown, with ribbons the color of a peach, creating a sensation; you had better wed an affinity since you won't have me, and get a protector at once."

"That is the man I dreamed of whom the aeronauts dubbed my affinity; it's too bad we are not acquainted, instead of only getting instantaneous photographs of each other."

"What a trial!" he said, ironically; "but still," he added, as with a sudden remembrance, "I have, strange to say, had occasion to say, hang the conventionalities, more than once, with reference to a fair-haired girl with blue eyes, that seem, when I think of her, to follow me; no later, too, than this morning at W. A. Murray's door, as you I have had only instantaneous photographs of her; once before at a window in New York city, also there in a suspension car; it is not that I have fallen in love with her--not by a long chalk, but she seems to have been in my life some time, that by a trick of memory I have lost; but I advise you, Mrs. Gower, not to allow that man to bow to you again."

"Oh, he only lifted his hat in apology; but I wish you were not going away, and that I could see this girl."

"I wish I hadn't to; but this is the way time flies whenever I come to Holmnest; I am forgetting that I came to tell you I am just now the foot-ball of circ.u.mstance, which compels me to cross seas to have a halter put around my neck in wedding a girl whom I have never seen."

"Even if you have to, Charlie, you may love her at first sight, so don't take it to heart; if it is so that she is no affinity, you will suffer only as many others," she says gravely, "in having a taste of the tantalus punishment, in losing what we would fain grasp; but tell me all about it, as my dinner guests will be soon arriving, and I did so want you for--myself, as well as for Miss Crew."

"That's the first sympathetic word you have said, 'for yourself,'" he said, touching her hand, "but I am to be always for somebody else," he said, a little sadly; "but I see you think I am never going to begin, so here goes: My father, as you have heard me say, did not marry a second time, not that he did not again fall a victim to the tender pa.s.sion, but that the miscreator, circ.u.mstance, putting in an oar, sent him out of England, when his bride-elect that was to be, was coerced into marrying her guardian (one Edward Villiers, of Bayswater, London,) by his sister-in-law, a domestic tyrant, and his housekeeper; who, knowing to rid himself of her presence he would probably wed a woman of as strong a will as her own, when she, penniless, would be thrust out, told lies, not white ones, of my father, that he had married in Canada, intercepting his letters, and heaven knows what; at all events, Lucifer's agent triumphed, for on my father going across the water to claim her and scold her for her silence, he found her a wife with a baby girl, when, to reduce a three-volume story to a line, they, in despair, wept and raved, nearly heart broken, vowing that I and the little one should wed and inherit all the yellow sovereigns; and so, Elaine, it comes to pa.s.s in years of evolution this youngster has become of age, and I am presented with her as my bride. I have always known of this contract, but you know the kind of man I am, ever shoving the unpleasant into a corner; for the bare idea of marrying a woman for money has always been repugnant to me."

"I should say it has, for with you it has ever been 'more blessed to give than to receive.'"

"I don't know that, but to hasten, breathing time is at last not given me, I am summoned to England by those people and by my father's wish, who sends me a copy of the will of the late Mrs. Villiers, a clause of which I shall read to you; but what a bore I am to you."

"Nonsense; who have I poured my life puzzles into the ear of but your own kind self--turn about is fair play, and besides, yours is a sensational _life_ story, and so more interesting than thoughts from the clever pens of Haggard or Mannville, Fenn, or our own Watson Griffin."

"Well, the will reads ... 'on my dearly loved daughter, my little (Pearl) Margaret Villiers attaining her majority and becoming the wife of the aforesaid Charles Babbington-Cole, son of my loved friend Hugh Babbington-Cole, of Civil Service, Ottawa, Canada, my said daughter _shall enter into possession_ of all my real and personal property, she to be sole executrix, and to inherit all, (with, I hope, the advice of Dr. Annesley, of London, and Hugh Babbington-Cole aforesaid,) and subject to the following bequests: To my step-daughter, Margaret Elizabeth Villiers, I leave my forgiveness for her unvarying unkindness to myself with my copy of the Christian Martyrs. To my dear friend, Sarah Kane, five hundred pounds sterling and my wearing apparel. To my husband's sister-in-law, Elizabeth Stone, I will and bequeath my piano and music for use in her mission work, with the hope that sweet notes of music will make her less acid to the children of G.o.d's poor to whom she brings the Gospel message of peace, etc., etc.'"

"So! your late mother-in-law made a point there, the self-righteous woman weighted religion then as now. I have always predicted, because of your open palm, that you would never be a rich man, Charlie; I little thought the precious metal with a wife would pour into your lap at the same time; if you only knew her and cared for her," she said, musingly, when, noting his troubled look, she said brightly, picking a beautifully tinted maple leaf from his shoulder, "See here, old man, take this crimson-hued leaf as a good omen, and we will read from it that your home-bound path, I mean back to Holmnest and Toronto, will be a path of crimson roses; and now tell me, does the girl write you, and is it in a stand and deliver manner? If so, I fear my verdict upon her will be lacking in charity."

"No, my pater has letters from her which he does not forward; but here is the last one from my father, in which he says: ... 'I have received several letters from Broadlawns, Bayswater, England, and from Margaret also, in which they tell me time's up, your bride elect is of age, and naturally anxious to come into possession of her property. I need not go over the whole matter again with you, my boy, but I do most earnestly advise you to start at once, the daughter of my lost Margaret must be good and true, even though Villiers was her father; she should be pretty, also fair hair and sky-blue eyes (in woman's parlance). I saw her when her poor mother made her will in 1872. Pearl was then about five years old; she cannot fail to be attracted by yourself, if d.i.c.kson does not flatter you, and I don't think so; your good looks are honestly come by, so you needn't blush.

"'And now to business; enclosed you will find a cheque for five hundred dollars, for you are like me more than in appearance, you don't save.

What an income you will have shortly, instead of bookkeeping on the paltry salary of $800 per annum, you and Mrs. Cole, ahem! will roll about King Street the envy of the town, with an income of 5,000 sterling per annum. While I shall have the pleasure of seeing some of your mechanical ideas patented, and their models in the buildings here, your nose and the grindstone will part company; how glad I am that you have not fallen in love and married; and now I ask you, believing it to be best, believing it to be for your happiness, to leave for the seaboard on receipt of this; my chief has given me a three weeks' leave, so shall run across, but to save time, as I have business at Quebec, shall sail from there; meet me at Morley's, London, Trafalgar Square. If my memory plays me no trick, I shall sail by the _Circa.s.sian_, Sept.

16th, you take the _City of Chicago_, one day later from New York.

"'And now, _pour le present_, farewell; you don't know how I have set my heart on this matter, if I were ill, the knowledge that the little daughter of my own love was your wife would cure me.

"'Social events are right down smart with us; in fact Ottawa is booming.

Rumor says our next tid-bit will be an elopement in high life; even the soldiers can't keep the enemy from poaching; but we must be blind and deaf 'till Grundy says now.'

"'The American consul is a very knight of labor at present, minus their short hours, as quite a large number are leaving for, to them, the land of promise, the United States, whether they fly from the taxes or the cold, I have not interviewed them; by the way, you will be the better for a warm heart beating against your own this winter. And now one word of self, I shall be glad of the run across the water, for I feel anything but smart. I wish we could have crossed together. Farewell, my boy, till we meet at Morley's.

"'Your affectionate father, "'HUGH B. COLE.

"'C. B. COLE, ESQ., "'500 Wellington St. Toronto, Ont.'"

"How strange it all seems, Charlie," she said dreamily. "I shall miss you so much, I do hope she is amiable and lovable, you and she must come to me until you get settled; poor fellow, you look stunned."

"I am paralyzed! it at last is so sudden, but why do you smile?"

"At a remark you made at the Smyth's, or I rather think it was when escorting me home, that 'you deserved a good wife, for you had never sinned, never told a lie.' So let us hope in your case virtue will have a reward."

"See! I must go, your guests are arriving; how I wish you had no one this evening, and I might dine with you alone."

"My wish too, on this your last visit, unfettered."

"That means you cannot bolster me up in this case, as you have more than once heretofore; that I am in for it," he says, looking at her sorrowfully.

"Yes, you are regularly hemmed in, and as I have been before now, so are you at present the mere foot-ball of circ.u.mstances, but 'out of every evil comes some good,' they say, and as your father says," she added with forced gaiety, for she is sad at the thought of snapping of old ties. "You will be the better of a warm heart beside your own in our winter climate; and above all, remember the good omen of this maple leaf; here, take it with you," she says, pinning it to his coat, the suspicion of a tear in her eyes.

"Good bye, Elaine, if it must be so; pray that I may come out of it all right, for I feel horribly depressed; and only you say I must go, would, I believe, show the white feather; I wish I might kiss you good-bye; there is that fellow, Cobbe, coming in, remember, that 'nothing is more deeply punished than the neglect of the affinities.' G.o.d bless you; farewell."

And leaving by a side gate and entering a pa.s.sing hack, one of the kindest-hearted sons of fair Toronto takes his first step to another land; easily led, yielding to a degree, he is now led by the wish of a dead woman, by the iron will of a living one, his father following their beckoning hand also.

CHAPTER V.

A BONA DEA.

In animated converse with her guests during the half-hour ere dinner is announced, the mistress of Holmnest makes a picture one's eyes dwell on--the folds of her soft summer gown hang gracefully, while fitting her figure like the glove of a Frenchwoman; fond of a new sensation--as is the way of mortals--this of playing the hostess to a few chosen friends in a home of her own once more, is pleasurable excitement; there is a softness of expression, a tenderness in the dark eyes, engendered by the fact of her sympathy having been acted upon by the leave-taking, on such an errand too, of her friend Cole, which lends to her an additional charm. The consciousness also that she is looking well, gives, as is natural to most women, a pleasurable feeling in whatever is on the _tapis_, with the knowledge also, that her little dinner will be perfect, her guests harmonious--save one.

"So you think Toronto is rather a fair matron after all, Mrs. Dale, and that your New York robes blend harmoniously with the other effects at the Queens?"

"I reckon I do, Mrs. Gower; you did not say a word too much in her praise; I remember saying to Henry before we started, my last season's gowns would do."