THE Loveless Marriage.

Mount Ida Chronicle, Volume II, Issue 118, 2 June 1871, Page 6

THE Loveless Marriage.

Chapter I. Chaelie Lushington and I had been companions since infancy. We had stood together in the class at the village school, had journeyed home together every afternoon, and on playdays had romped together through the sunny hay fields. Charlie was a remarkably pretty boy, and possessed an extremely charming manner ; still he was no favorite at school. That, however, I always attributed to jealousy. I saw no wrong in him —Charlie ever was perfection in my eyes. Long happy days were those spent with my boy lover ; they seem now as if they had been passed in another world, and that that world and all the innocent joys connected with it had been swept out of the universe for ever.

Till Charles was fourteen years of age we had scarcely ever been separated ; but at that, time a letter arrived from his father in India, containing orders for his son to be sent for three years to a boarding school, and for three years more to be apprenticed to a city merchant, previous to his being taken to join himself abroad.

Here was a sore heart for us both ; long and bitterly we both cried and maligned in our hearts the man who had thus summarily broken in upon our friendship ; but the prospect was much brightened for me by a promise that I should not be left alone, but should also be sent to a new school hundreds of miles away. As may easily be understood, my spirits were much raised by the thought of being sent to this new school, not to return perhaps till I was a young lady, and already, despite my grief at parting with my companion, I revelled in dreams about the time when I would return a dignified woman to astonish all my old friends. Poor little child ! I was looking forward a stretch of at least five years, and what a deal may happen in five years to wring the heart and desolate the life ; but these shadows did not darken

my dreams—all was hope and joy then. t Many ind interesting were the preparations for our departure, and we quite forgot all the pain of separation in anticipation of the fine times that lay before us. The last day we were to spend together was passed in plans about writing to each other, farewells to all our old haunts, and renewed rows of attachment.

The rattle of the stage-coach that bore away Charlie left a very sad echo in my heart, and I was returning home very desolate, and was just going to make a sudden rush into the house to have a right good cry in my own room, when, to my astonishment, I saw my father bustling about, giving fifty confused < orders to the groom, who was busy putting the pony in the chaise.

I never got time to ask a question regarding all the preparations going on, for the first thing I heard was my father's voice calling out to me, "Look sharp, Katie ; no time to be lost; you and I are going to have a real hard week's work saying good-bye to all the folks."

..In a moment I comprehended it all. I tad still a spare week before going to school, and this series of little trips had been, planned to keep me from moping at the loss of my companion. I did not say a word, for I was choking, but I ran upstairs and did have a right good cry—not for my parting with Charlie; but for the considerateness of my indulgent old father. You will wonder how I liad the perception to discern a kindness so readily, being, as you will suppose, a spoilt child; but I was not spoiled. Had both my parents been alike, I certainly would have been ; but, as it was, I had a mother who, by her

cold, just rule, counteracted, as she thought, the effect of my father's indulgence, whereas she rather, by the contrast of her own unkindness, made me appreciate any sympathy that I got from him more than I would otherwise have done.

I sometimes wonder now that my father could bear her with her haughty, precise ways, and her lectures upon duties and idols.

Without the slightest disrespect I can truly say of her that, after all her dissertations to father and me, she worshipped a worse idol than either of us—namely, herself.

I think I see her that morning come sweeping into my room, and, without making the slightest inquiry as to what was making me cry, tell me that I must try to overcome that particular failing at school, and return to G-lenbender a little more able to control and conceal my feelings.

Unmotherly woman ! I was going from her perhaps for the last time, and she did not take her little girl in her arms like another mother, and cover her with kisses. She did not even, in speaking of my return, say " When you come back to me," but "When you return to G-lenbender;" as much as to say, remember you are the daughter of a gentleman with an estate, and must conduct yourself accordingly. I did not fail to mark her meaning, young as I was, and, glad to escape any more injunctions, I bathed my eyes, tied on my bonnet all awry, and leaving twenty little sentimental whims ungratiiied, I ran out of the dear room without locking back, and bestowing upon the servants a few hurried kisses in the dark passages, was fully equipped and seated in the chaise before my mother had swept her long train adown the staircase and through the hall. She came forward, and in her usual systematic style told me that my clothes would be all packed and sent direct to the boarding school, bade me write immediately upon my arrival, and once a week after that, kissed me upon the cheek, actually patted me on the shoulder—l suppose to show her approval of my stern demeanour—and withdrew herself to see us start.

Chaptee II

A delightful week was that for me, and

I fancy with my father too, who was a gay, benevolent old soul, and enjoyed visiting with true relish. All our friends were alike kind to us, and instead of a week we could have spent months most happily among them. We were always unexpected, and many a surprise I had the pleasure of giving, my father always allowing me first to enter the room, and see their astonished looks.

At the house of one of my father's cousins I was pursuing the same course as usual, and, expecting to see nobody but the family, with whom we had been very intimate, I was more than surprised to find them all arrayed in party dresses. Explanations havmg been made on both sides, we found that they were just about to set off for a marriage, and as it was to take place in the Episcopal Chapel, they at once decided that we should accompany them, and witness the ceremony from the gallery. On,e of the family, a girl of about my own age, at once attacked me, making me her looking-glass, begging to know if this flower was right, and that ribbon pretty — asking me if I would be kind enough to pin on her favor (which she promised to let me have afterwards as a remembrance of the ceremony), and chattered away all the while about how nice Mr. Cheetham the bridegroom was, and how beautiful and delicate the fair-haired bride.

I enjoyed the ceremony wonderfully, for it was the first marriage I had ever seen.

With greedy eyes I devoured the principal actors—l was able to tell exactly everything that the beautiful bride and the maidens wore, I saw every look and smile upon the bridegroom's face, and I amused them afterwards by showing them with the chatterbox Nancy for my bride, exactly how the ring was put on, the kiss given, &c, &c.

Nancy and the rest of us of course dreamed upon the wedding-cake, and next morning I, poor innocent, set them all into roars of laughter by telling them that I had dreamed I was the bride, and that the ring, orange-blossom, and all the pretty things belonged to me. " And did you dream you got the kiss too?" laughed the wicked Nancy. " Yes," I said. " But I did not like that."

I wonder what I would have thought if the book of fate had been laid open to me then, and I had seen that a few years after I would stand before the altar, hand in hand with the man I had just seen married, and vow to love, honor, and obey him, and him only.

This was my last holiday, and with Nancy's favor in my pocket, and the pleasant recollection of the marriage ceremony impressed upon my mind, I bade my dear father a lingering farewell, amid the bustle of the station, and, under the care of a business gentleman, was soon whizzing away to my new home, a boarding-school in the south of England. I shall not weary my reader with a description of the time I spent there ; suffice it to say that I wrote home every week, and as regularly received an answer in my mother's beautiful angular hand. Once or twice I got a letter from my father containing enclosures of money, and long after the latter had disappeared the former still held a place in my pocket, till they were worn nearly to tatters. Chapteb 111.

I had been about two years at school when I received one morning a sudden summons to come home without delay, as my father had had a stroke of paralysis, and was not expected to recover.

With an unspeakable numbness at my heart, I took the letter to the Lady Superior, and, bursting into tears, laid it upon her lap. Kind creature, she read it with tears streaming down her own face, embraced

me, and hoped I should yet find things better than they seemed.

In an hour afterwards she had me equipped for my journey, saw me to the station, and into the charge of a good-na-tured guard. A lonely, desolate journey was that for me, and the farther north I went the more desolate did it become. It was about the beginning of March, and there was a thin covering of snow strewn over the dry earth, that was even less pleasing than the deep soft snows of midwinter, for then one always sees in imagination the ruddy glow of the Christmas fire, and hears the cheerful crackle of the Yule log.

Exhausted by the strong strain upon my nerves, I fell asleep, and the latter part of my journey was passed while in a state o* happy forgetfulness. At last, upon entering one of the halflighted stations which I thought ought to be near home, I put my head out of the window to ascertain its name, when I encountered the stolid, wondering gaze of Andrew, our old groom. With a spring ihat was no common feat for him, lie bounded forward, and, forfeiting that 1 was no longer a ciiiid, lntccfme fairly m his arms and set me down at a sale distance from the rails.

Before I could give him an order, he had pulled out ail my belongings Irom ike carnage, and was uiice iuoio ai my side, telling me to come away, as he did uoi kuuw wnat mischief these uichins might be up to with the pony. We were seated in the chaise, and had driven nearly a quarter of a mile before I

could summon words to ask about my father..

The night was dark, and I did not see Andrew's face, but I heard his voice very low and husky as he said, " Weel, Miss, I'm feart maister is na makin't ony better."

At this I would fain have laid my head on old Andrew's shoulder and cried again, but I thought how angry my mother would be at such a display of grief belbre a servant, so I sat without speaking, listening to the story of my lather's illness, while the hot tears streamed over my cheeks.

Ours was a very dull arrival—no driving round by the front of the house, no joyous welcome as I had dreamed of when 1 went away, but a silent arrival, and a stealthy entrance, that the dying might not be disturbed.

Remembering my mother's injunction to control my feelings, I dropped my stormcloak from my shoulders and crept upstairs. But when I reached the door of my father's room I heard a low childish voice asking "Has Katie com j yet r"' then all my fortitude failed me, and in a wild impulse of sobs and tears I had burst into the room and sprung upon the bed. I heard a hall-smothered cry of " My darling," and ere another minute passed I was lying locked in the embrace of a dead father.

I felt my mother's arms trying to disengage my clasp —I heard her voice remonstrating with me, but X cared not. What were her voice and form to me compared with those of the dead r" and I lay covering the dear face with frantic kisses, and Egging vainly for one more word from the silent lips.

At length they tore me away; and I think for once I felt an awakening of love for my mother when she spoke of our common loss that night with my head resting in her lap, and the first tears I ever knew her shed falling upon my hair. But, in her old systematic way, she could not allow herself to waste more than a few hours in the indulgence of her grief. Business had to be transacted, preparations made for the funeral, orders given to the dressmaker, hateful fittings and refittings of mournings to be gone through, and the hundred little details which are thought to be beneficial in distracting the thoughts of a bereaved family from their sorrow. Ah, me ! how I hated them- ail—how I wished, instead of black dresses and outward signs of woe, people were permitted a I'ew days' real heartfelt mourning in the chamber of the dead.

Many and many a time they caught me sitting like some pale spirit watching over the dust of my beloved parent; and when they carried him away to the churchyard, night after night, in the chill spring twilight, would I be found sitting on the grave like some strangely sculptured figure.

I think I should actually have died of grief if it had not been for the timely arrival of Cjiarlie Lushington to visit his aunt, as he did every spring for a short time. He, with his gay humors and joyous laugh, brought me back to the world once more.

It was at his aunt's I first met him. and we were both struck dumb with astonishment at the great change in each other's appearance.

The down upon his chin and lip and his tall unwieldy form rather awed me ; and, as he afterwards confessed to me, my long dresses (which, by the way, were an inch oft'the ground), and my suiid, melancholy expression, quite as much awed him, and made him think me a woman before my time, and consequently quite out of his reach.

We were altogether very awkward and silent in each other's presence, until his aunt, good-nalured old thing, packed us both away to the garden, telling us to make better friends before we returned. The first thing that set us to rights was my hat being blown away and both of us setting off after it across the hill. Charlie having the longest legs was, of course, lirst at the hat, and while he was stooping to pick it up, I could not resist giving him a slight shove, which sent him, moustache and all, rolling on the ground. He got up with a merry laugh, called me the same old girl, tied on my hat for me, and stole a kiss for his pains. Half-an-hour afterwards we were on such a very friendly footing that Charlie was asking me if I liked him as well as ever, and in my teasing way I was telling him to find that out if lie could. He held in his hand something that he said he would give me if I told him, and so in a vai-y lonely part of the garden X did satisfy him, and he opened his hand and revealed a lovely Indian ornament that had been sent by his father. This was not the first present I had received from him, birthdays and Christmasdays always bringing Charlie's coiitributu«u, bu. i pm,d it Hum- die Jess—every triile from Jiiju was of infinite value, and, aJ/mg wiih the rest of my Irensinvs, I locked it away in my dressing-case, to harrow my soul iu after years. (To be concluded in our next J