"Not so, my dear, without you take me, too. Hey, what say you, now? I tell you, I"ve a notion to be kind and good to this little one; but a man must have some one to help him do right. Now, it depends on you to help me be a better or a worse man. I"ve been thinking of you for a half-dozen years past, but I thought your whole heart was in little Etta, and maybe you wouldn"t take me, and I did not like to deal with uncertainties. Now, Etta"s provided for with a valentine, I"m here offering myself and my valentine to you. Say yes or no; I"m in a hurry now."
"Pity but you had been so years ago," thought Miss Henrietta; but she said:
"Squire Sloughman, I think it the duty of every Christian to do all the good she can. So, for that cause, and charity toward the helpless little infant, I consent to--become----"
"Mrs. Sloughwoman--man, I mean," said the delighted Squire, springing up and imprinting a kiss on Miss Henrietta"s lips.
"Sloughwoman, indeed! I"ll not be slow in letting you know I think you are very hasty in your demonstrations. Wait until I give you leave,"
said the happy spinster.
"I have waited long enough. And now, my dear, do you hurry on to do your Christian duty; remembering particularly the helpless little infant needing your care," said the Squire, a little mischievously.
Miss Henrietta never knew whether her mistake had been discovered. She did not try to find out.
In a short time there was a double wedding in the village. The brides, Aunt Henrietta and little Etta, equally sharing the admiration of the guests.
Mrs. Sloughman admitted to herself, after all, it was the valentine that brought the squire out. And she is often heard to say that she had fully proved the truth of the old saying, "It"s an ill wind that blows n.o.body good.
FALSE AND TRUE LOVE.
BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN.
"Though round her playful lips should glitter Heat lightnings of a girlish scorn, Harmless they are, for nothing bitter In that dear heart was ever born; That merry heart that cannot lie Within its warm nest quietly, But ever from the full dark eye Is looking kindly night and morn."
"My son, I do not believe Valeria Fairleigh has ever a serious thought; nothing beyond the present enjoyment, or deeper than the devising of a becoming attire for some approaching dance or festive occasion. Believe me, she is not the girl for a minister"s wife. You have chosen as your vocation the work of G.o.d; in this you should be sustained by your wife: one who would enter into your labor with energy of mind and body. She should have a heart to sympathize not only with her husband, but his charge. I tell you, David, a man"s success and popularity in his ministry depends very much on the woman that he has chosen to be his helpmate. Had your mother been other than she is, I truly think I should have sunk under the many trials during the years of my work."
"But, father, if report speaks truly, my mother was not a very sedate maiden. I have heard many a tale of her wild days. Pardon me, but I do not think you are judging Miss Fairleigh with your usual benevolence and charity. I know she is a very gay, fun-loving girl, but I believe she has a warm, true heart. I have never known her to do a heartless action, or turn a cold ear on any needing her sympathy."
"Lovers are p.r.o.ne to see only the good and beautiful," replied his father, "Of course, my son, I do not wish or expect to decide this matter for you; only to influence you, for your happiness. Will you promise me this much--do not commit yourself until you have seen more of Valeria and in some degree test her worth. How is it that a man of such deep thought, hard study, and so earnest and devoted to his work, should place his affections on one so very dissimilar? It is very strange to me, particularly as in the same house is her cousin, Miss Bland--just the woman for you. A well-cultivated, thoroughly-disciplined mind, with great energy and industry. You know well, of charities her name is always among the first; ready with time and money to help in good works. Why could you not have loved her? Why did your heart wander from the right?"
"Oh, father! you ask why the heart wanders! I know too truly love cannot be tutored; but will drag away the heart--often against our better judgment, and wander with it where it will--sometimes dropping on the bosom of a calmly gliding river; again amid the turbulent waves of a dark and stormy sea. Heaven grant that this last may not be the fate of mine. The true reason, however, that I became attached to Miss Fairleigh I think is this: I was so accustomed to, so tired of, dignified, sedate and "well-disciplined" young ladies, who always put on church behavior and talk only of church matters when the minister is near, that when I met her she was so different such a bright, merry child of nature, I was charmed! Yes, I may say, refreshed, rested.
After the many sad and trying duties of our calling, father, we need some one like Vallie Fairleigh to call forth a reaction of the mind.
But you shall have the promise, I will not advance a step further until I know her better."
A few days after this conversation David Carlton was sitting in his study, when his father entered, saying:
"David, I have a letter from home, hastening my return. So I shall have to cut my visit a little short. I would go away much happier, if my mind was relieved about Miss Fairleigh. I wish I could think her worthy of the position you would place her in. I have noticed you much since our conversation on that subject, and I am sure you are much attached to her. I have an idea to put her to a test, not only concerning her better feelings, but to prove the amount of influence you have over her.
"Listen: This evening is appointed for the meeting to raise funds and make arrangements relative to sending out a missionary to the ---- Indians. There has (you tell me) been but little interest awakened among your people on this subject. Now, if you can induce the young folks to take hold of this, it will be all right. This is also the evening of Monsieur Costello"s grand masquerade and the opera of "Maritana." I called on Mrs. Fairleigh about an hour ago. The ladies were discussing these amus.e.m.e.nts. Miss Bland is very anxious to see that particular opera, and was trying to persuade Valeria to go with her. Mrs. Fairleigh positively forbade the ball; so when I left the arrangement was, Miss Bland, Mrs. Fairleigh and the gentlemen were going to enjoy the music, and Valeria is to remain home; but I very much fear this she will not do. Now, David, go and ask her to accompany you--urge her; tell her how much good her influence might exert, and so on. If she consents, I have not another word to say about your loving, wooing and marrying her, if you can. Should she not consent, then ask Miss Bland. I know how anxious she is to see "Maritana." Now, try if she will resign this pleasure for the sake of doing good. Of course, you must not let her know you have previously asked her cousin. Will you do it? It can do no harm, and may he productive of much good."
"Yes, father, I will put her to the test. But I will not promise that the issue shall decide my future course. I shall be grieved and mortified if she does not consent, but not without hope. I know she is good, and we will find it yet."
An hour more found David Carlton awaiting in the drawing-room the coming of Valeria.
Fortune favored him thus far.
"Miss Bland and Miss Fairleigh were out, but would be back soon. Miss Valeria was in," answered the servant to his inquiry, "If the ladies were home?"
In a few moments she came in smiling brightly, and saying:
"I am really glad to see you again, Mr. Carlton, for mamma and Julia said I had quite horrified you with my nonsense the last evening you were here. Indeed, you must excuse me, but I cannot possibly don dignity and reserve. Jule can do enough of that for both, and I think it is far better to laugh than be sighing."
"Indeed, I have never seen anything to disapprove of. I could not expect or wish to see the young and happy either affecting, or really possessing, the gravity of maturer years. My absence has no connection whatever with the events of that evening. I have been devoting my spare time to my father. This is his last evening with me. I came round to ask a favor of you. We are very anxious to get up some interest for the mission to ----, and father thinks if the young folks of the church would aid us, it would be all right. Will you go with us?" answered David. A look of deep regret, the first he had ever seen, was in the eyes of Valeria, when she answered:
"You will have to excuse me, I have an engagement for the evening, I am really sorry, I would like to oblige you." Then, breaking into a merry laugh, she said:
"Jule will go--ask her. She dotes on missions--both foreign and home, and all sorts of charity meetings. She has money, too; I"ve spent every cent of mine this month already, besides all I could borrow.
Yes, ask her; I know she will, and give, too. I should be sure to go to sleep or get to plotting some sort of mischief against my nearest neighbor. I could do you no good, Mr. Carlton."
"Valeria! Excuse me, Miss Fairleigh--will you be serious and listen to me one moment?"
He urged, but in vain. Not even when his voice sank to low, soft tones and, with pleading eyes, he whispered: "Go for my sake," would she consent.
"At least tell me where you are going?" he asked.
"I am going to----. No, I dare not tell. Ma and Jule would not approve, and even dear, good papa might censure, if he knew it. Here they come! Julia, Mr. Carlton is waiting to see you."
"Well, David, you have failed! Your countenance is very expressive."
"Even so, sir--Miss Fairleigh not only declined, but I greatly fear she is going to the ball against her parents" wishes. If this be so, I must try to conquer this love. The girl who sets at naught the will of her kind, loving parents--acting secretly against their wishes--would not, I am sure, prove a good wife."
"Well spoken, my son. How about Miss Bland?"
"Of course she is going. We are to call for her."
"A good girl--resigning pleasure to duty. A rare good girl."
"Apparently, so, sir; but, indeed, I am impressed with the idea that there is something hidden about her. She does not seem natural,"
replied David.
Father and son had just arrived at Mr. Fairleigh"s when the door opened to admit a middle-aged, poorly-clad woman. Showing them into the drawing-room, the servant closed the door. Very soon after seating themselves they heard the voice of Miss Bland in a very excited tone.
"My brother! How dare you ask me of him?"
"I dare for my child"s sake. She is ill--perhaps dying."
"What is that to him or me? I told you and her I would have nothing more to do with either, since her name became so shamefully connected with my brother"s. Will you be kind enough to relieve me of your presence?"
"My daughter is as pure as you. Her child, and your brother"s is suffering from want. Will you pay me, at least, for our last work--the dress you have on?"
"How much?" was asked, in a sharp, quick voice.