"Never mind, my dear; you are quick, I"ll be bound, and we"ll soon make a good housekeeper of you. There"s one thing to begin on: if you travel in your handsome dresses you will never have anything decent to wear. Get yourself a nice, neat black alpaca, that will never show dirt, and last for years."
Mary listened for a moment in speechless indignation, and then said:
"But I wish to be as well dressed when I travel as at home; any lady must do so."
"Ah! you will soon lose that notion when you are married. Limeton ladies are much more sensible."
Mary was prudently silent. It was evidently useless to argue with the old lady. After tea Mrs. Cowell went to sleep in her chair, and Louise took her visitor to Tom"s own room, showed her his wonderful juvenile achievements in drawing and calligraphy, and seeing Mary was somewhat silent, said suddenly:
"You most not mind what mamma says, dear Mary; she is old-fashioned in her ideas, and I have been brought up to be something-like her, but we can"t expect every one to be cut out after our own pattern.
Tom is not"
The intention was, no doubt, very kind, but the tone seemed to Mary one of tolerance. She fancied Louise meant to patronize her, making allowance for her short-comings, and she could not brook that in her present mood, so she answered, somewhat tartly:
"I am afraid I should not meet the expectations of any of you, not having been cut out by any pattern at all, that I know of."
"There, you are offended, and I am sorry. But mamma meant well, and so do I," she added, after a pause.
Now, Mary prided herself upon being exceedingly reasonable, and so she reflected that Mrs. Cowell and Louise had acted according to their lights. It was not to be expected that they should understand her, so she graciously said:
"Don"t speak of it any more. We see things from such different points of view that it is scarcely likely we could agree on such a subject I can see that you are very kind, Louise," she added, putting forth her little white hand, which Louise clasped in her shapely brown ones; and then they joined Mrs. Cowell, who had just awakened from her nap.
During the next few days Mary learned to appreciate the character of Louise, without being in the least desirous of emulating her housewifely virtues. Limeton did not meet with her approval. She could scarcely repress her disgust as she walked the grimy streets, saw the pretentious, over-dressed people, who thus flaunted their wealth in the faces of their less fortunate neighbours, and then thought It might have been her home. To change clean, beautiful Mapleton for Limeton!
Tom had told her he would like their home Limeton, but had said that if she would be happier in Mapleton he would forego his wish. His business permitted him to live in either place. Not to be outdone in generosity, Mary had declared her happiness was to be with him, no matter where. The subject had not been renewed, but Mary had now quite decided that Limeton _could never_ be her home. She had, indeed, balanced whether Mrs. Cowell could ever be her mother-in-law, but as she thought of Tom, she felt that infliction could be borne-- away from Limeton.
Tom was to come the following Sat.u.r.day, and spend a few days at home before she went back to Mapleton, and she awaited his coming with eagerness. She wanted to let him know that she could never make her home in Limeton, before he could make any plans with his mother.
When Sat.u.r.day came, she told Louise she thought of going to the depot to meet Tom; and Louise, with more delicacy than Mary had given her credit for, said:
"Oh! that is just the thing. I have so many things to see to that I would rather not go, and yet we could not let him arrive without some of us going."
She also managed to keep Mrs. Cowell at home, feeling sure that Tom would enjoy Mary"s company alone better than with them.
Mary almost forgot all about Mrs. Cowell in the pleasure of meeting Tom, but after he had asked her a dozen questions, about herself, he said:
"And how do you like Limeton, Mary?"
"Oh, perfectly detestable! I cannot think how anybody can live there."
"Ah! I see you have still those Mapleton ideas, Mary. Now, I hate Mapleton, and am always glad to get out of it, the people are such sn.o.bs. You are the only pleasant person I ever met there. Limeton people are substantial, true-hearted, and--and, in short, Mary, I am much disappointed that you don"t like the finest city in the State."
"Finest city in the State, indeed!" says Mary, stung by his disparagement of her native city. "It is a most unpleasant place, smoky, grimy, and unhealthy, and the people, as far as I have met them, may be substantial enough, but they are dreadfully tiresome and uninteresting. I don"t mean you, Tom," she adds, seeing him glare down upon her in angry astonishment.
"I am much obliged, I am sure, that you make an exception in my favour, but I cannot take credit myself at the expense of my mother and Louise."
"Oh! I like Louise."
"And not my mother, I infer?
"No."
Mary had not intended to tell him this point-blank, but he had taken such a line with her for not liking Limeton that she felt indignant, and not inclined to mince the facts at all. The result was what may have been expected: Tom stalked on in solemn silence, while she, all of resentment, held her little head very much in the air.
When they arrived at the house, Louise saw, notwithstanding Mary"s unusual animation, that something had gone wrong between them, but chose the wise part of silence. Mrs. Cowell saw nothing but that her son was not much in love, as she feared he would be, with Mary. She had not found the latter as tractable as she had hoped in the way of imitating Louise, and had discovered that she had not that admiration of frugality and thrift, that befitted the future wife of her son; therefore she was contented to see that son"s cool politeness to Mary, which she took as a proof that he was not likely to be led away by her caprices.
The next morning Tom joined Mary in the garden, and said:
"Under the impression that you would like Limeton, I had written about a place here I wanted to buy, but from what you said last night I conclude that any plan of that sort is useless."
"Quite useless," said Mary decidedly; "and I really think, Tom, that you had better decide your future without reference to me. I--that is --there are several things that would, I think, prevent our being happy together."
"In short, you are tired of our engagement?"
"If you take it that way, yes."
"Oh, you women, you women!" said Tom, bitterly; "but Mary had walked off, and he did not follow her.
Later that day Mary said she thought her presence was required at home. Louise looked sad, but no one made any remark on her sudden leave-taking. Only Tom, when he drove her to the depot, talking painfully small talk as they went, to avoid past and gone topics, wringing her hands as the train moved off, said:
"Heaven bless you, Mary; I hope one of your Mapleton fellows will make you as good a husband as I should have wished to be."
"Thank you; I must take my chance," says Mary, forcing back her tears till he is gone; then, dropping her veil, she cries her way home.
A year later Mary is alone in the world. She has lost her father, and as she sits in her mourning dress she thinks of the past, and is not afraid to tell herself now, that but for her own folly she might have had good, true-hearted Tom Cowell to help her in her trouble; that, grieved as she would have been at her father"s loss, she could never have been alone in the world as long as Tom had lived; and now she would be alone for ever, for, disguise it from herself as she had tried to do, she knew she loved Tom still; all other men seemed poor, weak things to her, and for Tom"s sake even Mapleton did not seem such a very superior place as it had done, and in consequence, Limeton was not so horrible. She knew in her heart she had been somewhat prejudiced, and told herself that the unpleasantness of it should have counted as nothing compared with Tom"s love, All this she had seen long before she confessed it even to herself; probably, but for the grief that had lowered her pride, she never would have so confessed.
She sat musing in the firelight as she had done a year ago, when a card was brought to her.
"Mrs. Henry Carlton! I know no one of that name. Show the lady in."
A lady, dressed handsomely, but with Quaker-like simplicity, then entered, and Mary recognised Louise Cowell.
After the first embarra.s.sment of meeting had pa.s.sed, Louise told Mary of her marriage with one of the "dearest men in the world," that they had just returned from their wedding trip, and had so timed their arrival as to meet Tom on his return from Europe.
"It was only last night we heard of your father"s death, and then, dear Mary, I could not refrain from coming to tell you how sorry I am."
"Tears filled Mary"s eyes at the mention of her father.
"I am very much obliged to you, Louise, and heartily glad to see you. Are you going to stay here long?"
"Yes, we shall pa.s.s the winter in Mapleton, and being a stranger here, I shall often inflict my company on you if you will have me."
"The oftener the better, dear Louise," replied Mary, sincerely.
She liked Louise. At the same time, she thought with some trepidation that these visits from Louise must result in her meeting Tom again, which she felt very reluctant to do; but pride came to her aid, and she asked herself why she could not meet a man with indifference, who could so meet her?