He set the lamp down in a distant part of the room, and prepared for rest.
Max had spent the evening over his books and diary. His entry in that was a brief statement of his delinquency, its punishment, and his resolve to be more obedient in future.
He had just wiped his pen and put it away, when Grandma Elsie came for a little motherly talk with him, as she often did at bedtime.
He received her with a mortified, embarra.s.sed air, but her kind, gentle manner quickly restored his self-possession.
"I was sorry, indeed," she said, "to hear that our boy Max had become a breaker of rules, and so caused us the loss of his society at the table and in the parlor."
"I thought the loss was all on my side. Grandma Elsie," he returned with a bright, pleased look. "I didn"t suppose anybody would miss me unpleasantly."
"Ah, you were quite mistaken in that; we are all fond of you, Max."
"Not Grandpa Dinsmore, I"m sure," he said, dropping his eyes and frowning.
"Why, Max, what else could induce him to give you a home here and be at the trouble of teaching you every day?"
"I thought it was you who gave me a home, Grandma Elsie," Max said in a softened tone, and with an affectionate look at her.
"This is my house," she said, "but my father is the head of the family, and without his approval I should never have asked you and your sisters here, much as I desire your happiness, and fond of you as I certainly am."
"You are very, very good to us!" he exclaimed with warmth; "you do so much for us! I wish I could do something for you!"
"Do you, my dear boy?" she said, smiling and softly patting his hand, which she had taken in hers; "then be respectful and obedient to my father. And to your mamma--my dear daughter. Nothing else could give me so much pleasure."
"I love Mamma Vi!" exclaimed Max. "I"m sure there couldn"t be a sweeter lady. And I like Grandpa Dinsmore, too, but--don"t you think now he"s very strict and ready to punish a fellow for a mere trifle, Grandma Elsie?"
"I dare say it seems but a trifle to you for a boy of your age to go into town and do an errand for himself without asking leave," she replied, "but that might lead to much worse things; the boy might take to loitering about the town and fall into bad company and so be led into I know not what wickedness. For that reason parents and guardians should know all about a boy"s comings and goings."
"That"s so, Grandma Elsie," Max said reflectively. "I don"t mean to get into bad company ever, but papa says I"m a heedless fellow, so perhaps I might do it before I thought. I"ll try to keep to rules after this."
"I hope so, for both your own sake and ours," she said; then with a motherly kiss bade him good-night.
CHAPTER XVI.
"O jealousy! thou merciless destroyer, More cruel than the grave! what ravages Does thy wild war make in the n.o.blest bosoms!"
--Mullet.
Edward stretched himself beside Zoe, but not to sleep for hours, for ever and anon she drew a sobbing breath that went to his very heart.
"Poor little thing!" he sighed, "I must have acted like a brute to grieve her so deeply, I should not have undertaken the care of a child who I knew had been spoiled by unlimited petting and indulgence, if I could not be more forbearing and tender with her. If, instead of a show of authority, I had tried reasoning and coaxing, doubtless the result would have been very different, and she would have been saved all this. I am ashamed of myself!
Grandpa might possibly have acted so toward a wife, but my father never, I am sure."
He was really very fond of his little wife, loving her with a protecting love as something peculiarly his own, to be guided and moulded to suit his ideas and wishes, so that she might eventually become the perfectly congenial companion, capable of understanding and sympathizing in all his views and feelings, which he desired, but found that she was not yet.
He began to fear she might never attain to that; that perhaps his sudden marriage was a mistake that would ruin the happiness of both for life.
Tormented thus, he turned restlessly on his pillow with many a groan and sigh, nor closed an eye in sleep till long past midnight.
He was sleeping very soundly when, about sunrise, Zoe opened her eyes.
She lay still for a moment listening to his breathing, while memory recalled what had pa.s.sed between them previous to her retiring.
"And there he lies and sleeps just as soundly as if he hadn"t been playing the tyrant to the woman he promised to love and cherish to life"s end,"
she said to herself, with a flash of anger and scorn in her eyes. "Well, I don"t mean to be here when he wakes; I"ll keep out of his way till he"s had his breakfast; for they say men are always savage on an empty stomach."
She slipped cautiously out of the bed, stole quietly into the next room, made her toilet, arraying herself in riding habit and hat, went down-stairs, ordered her pony saddled and brought to the door, and was presently galloping away down the avenue.
Edward had requested her never to go alone, always to take a servant as an attendant, even if she had one of the children with her, and especially if she had not; but she disregarded his wishes in this instance, partly from a spirit of defiance, partly because she much preferred a solitary ride, and could not see that there was any danger in it.
It was a bright spring morning, the air just cold enough to be delightfully bracing; men were at work in the fields, orchards were full of bloom and fragrance, forest trees leafing out, and springing gra.s.s and flowers making the roadsides lovely.
Zoe"s spirits rose with every mile she travelled, the perfume of flowers, the songs of birds, and all the sweet sights and sounds of nature that greeted eye, and ear, and every sense, filled her with joy. How could she, so young and full of life and health, be unhappy in so beautiful a world?
So keen was her enjoyment that she rode farther than she had intended.
Time pa.s.sed so quickly that, on looking at her watch, she was surprised to find that she would hardly be able, even at a gallop, to reach Ion by the breakfast hour.
She was a little disturbed at that, for everybody was expected to be punctual at meals. Grandpa Dinsmore was particular about it, and she did not wish to give Edward fresh cause for displeasure.
As she galloped swiftly up the avenue, she was surprised to see him pacing the veranda to and fro, watch in hand, while his horse stood near ready saddled and bridled.
As she drew rein close by the veranda steps, Edward hastily returned his watch to its fob, sprang forward, and lifted her from the saddle.
"Good-morning, little wife," he said with an affectionate kiss as he set her down, yet still keeping his arm about her. "I was not so kind as I might, or should have been last night, but you will not lay it up against your husband, love?"
"No, of course not, Ned," she returned, looking up into his face flushed and happy, that so loving an apology had been given her in place of the reproof she expected; "and you won"t hate me because I was cross when you were?"
"Hate you, love! No, never! I shall love you as long as we both live. But I must say good-by. I am summoned away on important business, and shall have hardly time to catch the next train."
"You might have told me last night," she pouted, as with another kiss he took his arm from her waist and turned to leave her.
"I did not receive the summons till half an hour ago," he answered, hastily mounting his steed.
"When will you come back?" she asked.
"I hope to be with you by tea-time, this evening. Au revoir, darling."
He threw her a kiss and was gone, galloping so rapidly away that in a minute or two he was out of sight; all the more speedily to her because her eyes were blinded with tears as she stood motionless, gazing after him.
It was their first parting, and there came over her a feeling that, should he never come back, the world would be a desert, nothing left worth living for.
"Never mind, dear child, it is for only a few hours, if all goes well,"
said a kind sweet voice at her side.