The Major’s Unexpected Wedding

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXVII, Issue 12, 22 September 1906, Page 31

The Major’s Unexpected Wedding

The Story of a Sudden Wedding Resolve

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LAURA C. GAYLORD.

THE clock on the mantel gave a little cluck by the way of warning that it meant to strike. The Major looked up at it reproachfully. He was so eminently satisfied! Only ten o'clock, to be sure; still, a man must be fresh in the morning, and the Major laid aside the book of poems- from which he had been reading aloud, and rose to gc. Elizabeth put down her work an 1 rose, too, smiling. ‘■This is an anniversary, Wi'l.’’ she said. “An anniversary?’' repeated the Major, wonderiiigly. “Yes. Don’t you know? Oh, but men always forget. It is left to us women ” “An anniversary?” said the Major again. “You mean -” “Yes, I mean ” she mocked him, affectionately. “I mean—that ten years ago to-night we became engaged!” “Ten year's ago!” said the Major. “Ten years ago at ten o’clock exactly. Wait a minute, that clock'll let go- in just a minute, and then —it becomes my duty to kiss you in honour of the occasion.” He stood laughingly with his arm around her shoulders until the chime began, then kissed her and held her oil from him for surveyal. “Bless my heart,” said he, “you haven’t changed a bit that I -can -sc-; same dark eyes, same dark hair,- same girl altogether. And yet—you are different. too. There’s more of the woman about you, somehow.” “And small wonder,” cried Elizabeth. “I’m getting on. ray dear boy. I was twenty-seven then, and now—l hesitate to name it!” “And I was thirty then, and now —I feel hesitation myself!” cried the major. “Forty? Eord, what a chilly sound it He looked again into the eyes of his lady love and bade her good-might and went away, but the chilly feeling was with him still, and it followed him into the hall and down the steps and started with him down the street. The Major set a glowing cigar between his teeth and stuffed his hands well down into his pockets. “Thirty-seven.” said he, “and forty! Autumnal, both of ’em. Suggestive of the sere and yellow. Bless my heart,” said the Major. “Bless my heart!” He tramped ou through the frosty air, and as he went he thought. Thirty-seven! Thirty-seven! Thirtyseven! The number rang in his cars with an odd persistence. Thirty seven, and unmarried. Thirty-seven, anil cut off by her engagement to him from all chance of marrying another man. Thirty seven, and dependent still noon her father for every bite she ate, for every stitch she wore;.' whereas, by rights, she should he depending upon him —him. the Major, who swore he loved her—for these and all other things! The Major reeled under the shock of the revelation, and came up against the wall of a building for support. Lord, what a cur he was—and it had never come home to him before! He had left thia sweet and charming Elizabeth of his to wither into old-maidenhood in her father's house, and why? At first because he had not been able to support her as she was supported at home; but later—in these past five years of his prosperity—simply because he hail been so at case, so selfishly comfortable in their existing relations that the need, in honour, for a change in those relations, it had simply never occurred to him. Bah, it had an evil taste!

“It shall not go on!” cried the Major,

opening his eyes, which he had closed upon a reeling world. “It shall be stopped at once!” Bravely said! He felt a rush of returning self-respect as the words felt from his lips, although his plans were of the vaguest; but as he straightened himself to go on, the glitter of a brass tablet against the stones of the build ing caught his eye. “Christ Church, the Reverend Chester L. Towart, Rector,” it ran. Towart. That was his friend Towart, surely. And Towart was a minister, and it was the duty of ministers to marry people. The Major looked around him. There was the rectory, next door, connecting with the church. The Major walked in at the gate, up the steps, and rang the hell. The woman who answered it was sorry to say that Mr Towart was not in. He had dined out. With the Reverend Mr Glencoe. The Major consulted his watch. Twenty minutes after ten. lie could catch him there. Towart and Glencoe always sat- late over their theological discussions. Moreover. Glencoe lived not far from Elizabeth Hastings. The Major boarded a car that came clanging along, and went back the way he had come. He found Glencoe peacefully occupied witii a pipe and a pile of sermon paper. “Ah! Major. good evening.” he said. “Towart? Yes, certainly. He left here an hour ago; was going to stop in somewhere on the way down; the Martins, 1 believe. Had some errands concerning a fair. Do you know. 1 suspect a growing attachment there. Eh? Ha, ha, ha!” But the Major could not stop to hear Glencoe’s facetious imaginings about. Tow art. He had an attachment of his own to see to. one that had been hanging on quite long enough, lie took the .address of the Martins, boarded a car, went off across town, and walked a block. The lofty abode of the Martins was in darkness. Towart must have gone. As the Major stood at the steps, unable, for the moment, io think what he wanted to do, another house caught his eye, a house where he remembered dining. “Judge Willey,” he said. “By dove. 1 had forgotten!” and he plunged across the street and rang the hell. “A license?*’ cried Judge Willey, in his library, opening Lis pink mouth in a round O of perturbation. “But, my dear—my dear boy, consider my smoking jacket, my slippers. . onside.r the hour! Wouldn't--a —wouldn't to-mor-row do. now?” But no. Ft was evident that nothing else than tonight would suit this hotbt hided lad of forty, and in the eml the rotund little Judge trotted obligingly oil to don coat and shoes for the ride down town. “Most extraordinary, most extraordinary,” he murmured, as he trotted downstairs again. “What possible need —er. Major, the young lady consents? It is Miss Hastings, of course?” Yes, it. was Miss Hastings, the Major informed him. Find breathed relief that the first question was not pressed. For had she consented? Not yet, not yet, but he had hones! The early slumbers of a janitor were ruthlessly disturbed, and when, after a little, he had locked the two men out and was free to return to his bed, the Major was in possession of a per which meant more to him than the wealth of the Klondyke. Hr put the Judge on a car with a somewhat incoherent murmur of thanks ami boarded another which took him to the apart-

ment-house where he lived. Tn ths office he called up Towlirt by telephone. “Hello, Towart!” hr called. “Hello! hello! hell well, why didn't you speak up plainer. I couldn't hear you. Say, Towart. I want you. Don’t go to bed yet awhile. Got your boots off? Well, put ’em on again. I’ll cal! for you in fifteen minutes. Want you to do something for me. Eh? Oh. nothing— nothing much. Or. rather, it — it is something, of course, only I can't explain here. Vut on your boots, there's l.i good fellow.” and. ringing off hastily, he took the elevator to his own apartment. Closing the door, he looked about hbn with an eye which was trying to adjust itself to the view-point of a woman, a "bride. As he came up the street, be had had grave doubts of these apar’ment.s of his. but now tl?At he came to examine them—really, he must tip those servants to-morrow. Everything was in the daintiest of order, and the kitchen was simply spandy. It was lucky, in a way. that his cook went home oxernight and that he got his own coffee in the morning. It would give more time for adjustment, and prevent bnyt h ing like a w k wa rd ness. The kitchen clock called him liack to the Hying moment. To wait would be asleep in his chair. It lacked only a quatrer to twelve The Major lied into his bedroom, brushed his hair violently, rushed out into the hallway to ring for Li carriage, then into the drawingroom, where stood an immense mahogany secretary. The Major unlocked a drawer ami rummaged until be found a ring, a plain gold seal with his family crest and motto upon it. “Hi’avy for a woman.” be muttered. ‘•'But she won’t mind. Anyway, it will have to do.” The carriage was waiting when he reached the street. Towart answered the door when he rang. “What on earth is it,” h* cried. “Birth, death, marriage?” “MGrriagc,” said (he Major, briefly, ‘•('omc on.” “Wait a minute. Whose?” “Mine,” said the Major. “( omc on.” and he put out a hand to hurry his friend. The latter evaded it. however, and disappeared into the house. “Hold on,” was all he said. “My togs,” he explained, when he reappeared, waving a small bag before th* eyes of the Major. “I don’t know what's happening, and I rather think you’re crazy: but if you are going to be married you want it done in style, t’c-me on.” The drive wits taken in silence. The Major, sitting .well, back in his corner, seemed to ln‘ lost in thought. Watching him keenly by the intermittent light of the street lamps, hnwcvei. To wart was informed, by a certain biting of the lips and wild fixity of gaze. that lie was not as free from emotion is his bodily quiet would seem to imp's. There were a dozen things Tuw’irt binned to know, but, by a might v < ll'ui t. ho smothered his curiosity and interest and kept the questions to himself. When the carriage stopped, the Major sprang from it without a word. The minister, uncertain what was expected of him, sat still for a moment, when certain sounds so wrought upon him that lie rose and followed alter. The Major stood in the yard of a large house, throwing pebbles at a se-cond-storey window. \s Tow.ut came up he stooped for a frcMi handful of gravel. Al the shine moment the window opened. “What in the name of Major. i-» that

Jon?” earne a voice, heavily charged With surprise and other emotions. “Yes, it is I," answered the Major. “But what in-the—solar system do 50a want’" “Elizabeth. I’ve come to be married,” said the Major. If he had had any quaking* in the silent meditation in the carriage they were stilled now. He knew exactly what he wished, and he took the short ent to this end with a Simplicity of purpose -which made of diplomatic meanderings mere futility. "1 have eoine to be married,” he said. “1 have kept Elizabeth waiting long enough. Heaven knows! I have been singularly selfish and blind. 1 think, but now that 1 have my sight again, 1 want to begin to make it up to her as soon as may be. The minister is here. H ill you call your daughter?” There was silence in the window; Towart. making himself small in the shadow of a bush, he’d his breath; then, going to the point as directly as the Major himself had done. Mr Hastings Spoke: “It is a little sudden, just here at the end. but 1 don’t know that any reasonable objection ean be made on the score of haste. There is time in ten years for almost any one to make up his mind. 1 guess we may as well clinch the matter now as any time. Til speak to Elizabeth,” and the window came down. A brief period of waiting ensued. Neither man spoke. Ton art, sitting on the steps with his bag between his knees, realised that his thoughts were too rapid and complex for expression in any language at his command. In fact, he doubted if the language had been invented that would be equal to it. The Major had no thoughts; he had entered upon a career of action. They were let in by Mr Hastings, dres-ed. apparently, with as much perfection as if he had taken hours to it. He was a short, thick-set man, with elose-eropped grey hair and. a firm mouth. The Major brushed by him and made his ■way to the library. Just inside the door, however, he came to a stop, and blankness succeeded to his vivid look, for he had expected Elizabeth to be there hv the table, where he had left

her. Crestfallen, he fell back and let the other men enter.

Another period of waiting followed. Mr Hastings, having stirred the fire ami procured from the dining room a decanter and some glasses, stood upon the heartrug with his short legs wide apart and talked finance with Towart. He talked in an undertone, as people speak of worldly matters at a funeral. It gave the Major a chill between the shoulders to hear him. The clergyman, while he conversed, was occupied with some affairs of his own in the corner. The Major alone had nothing to do. and it is doubtful whether he could have done it if he had had. He stood stiffly beside the chair Elizabeth had occupied earlier, and kept his eyes upon the door. When Mrs Hastings entered, stout, hastily dressed and much perturbed. he went forward, shook hands without speaking. led her to a chair and resumed his attitude. Silence fell. Even Mrs Hastings' murmur eeased. Everything seemed to wait.

And then there was a rustle of skirts in the quiet of the hall-way and Elizabeth came, dressed as she had been earlier in the evening, in a crimson house-waist with a dark skirt. As the Major went forward and took her hands, she raised her eyes to his. “My dear,” he said, “if I have selfishly kept you waiting all these years, it was because you made me so happy that I never thought- of anything else. Are you willing to forgive me the humiliation you must have suffered and trust yourself to me now?” Her serious lips melted into a smile, and she touched his face softly with her finger-tips. “I have been happy, too. Will.” she said, and the Major stooped and kissed her there before them all. Then he turned and led her to the clergyman, standing on the other side of the room in his tine white robes. It seemed as if only then the meaning of it all came to Elizabeth. The Major' felt her fingers tighten on his. saw the colour rush to her face in a crimson flood, and he had a moment's dread that she would draw back, but she stood up bravely.

When they bad been married, the Major kissed his wife and then he kissed her mother. It looked, for a moment, as if he meant to kiss her father, too, in his enthusiasm; but that gentleman warded him off and he went baek and held the bride’s hand quite boldly and publicly. There was one moment when the bride’s mother thought seriously of crying, but she ehanged her mind and laughed instead with the rest, and they drank healths all round and nibbled cakes which the bride obligingly brought from the pantry. And Mr Hastings helped the clergyman out of his robes and stood arm in-arm with him on the hearthrug, and they made jokes and everything was joyful. ” It’s the most absurd wedding that ever was,” said the bride. ” Might have had it years ago if Elizabeth would only let me jog the Major,” remarked Mr. Hastings, “ but she always said —-—” “My dear!” cried Mrs. Hastings, apprehensively. But the Major was not attending. If was coming to him bit by 141 as he looked into the eyes of his wife, that all these years he had been nothing more or less than a fool! “ Well go home now, it is late,” he said, jumping up. “ Towart, we’ll take you down in the carriage.” “ But Elizabeth —will Elizabeth got” cried Elizabeth's mother. The Major turned to his wife with something very like fright. Surely they could not keep her now. It did not seem to him that lie eould live without- her for another hour, now that she was truly his. He looked baek with contempt upon the mental condition of his former self, that self which had been content without a wife for ten long, empty years. - You—you will go home with me. Elizabeth?” Slowly Elizabeth looked around the room, at all the old familiar things, at her father, at her mother, and there was something very like homesickness in her eyes; but. coming to the Major, who was watching her anxiously, like a loving big dog, the look vanished. ~ When you’re married, you must obey.’’ she quoted, with an uncertain little laugh.

“Yes, I will go—home, WilT. Eor a moaml it looked to -Wt- Hastings as if this time he certainly should not be able to ward off the Major, but he managed to interpose the person of the Beveremd Mr. Towart as a buffer between hiaiseH and his ardent son-in-law, ami the erisi- was passed. When, however, the bridal pair fwithout Towart, who insisted that the ear was much more suitable for him) were finally settled aud about to start, amid a shower of barley hastily procured by the bride's father from a hag in a dark closet, said father -uddenly rushed forward and tore the door open again. “ Major, you are not married,” he declared. “ Y<rn hare no license. Eliabeth, get out.” The Major laid a detaining hand on the bride’s arm. “ Don't you worry. Mr. Hastings,” he said, calmly. “ I've got that license in my Inside pocket. Home, driver. Goodnight,” and he pulled the carriage to with a bang. .Just so insolent dees satisfaction make even a naturally- wellmannered man! And that is how the Major married his wife. So far as an outsider may judge, repentance has not yet ewe his way. in spite of the croaking old proverb about haste and leisure. But then, as the father of the bride had rather more than hinted, it wasn’t so very hasty, after all.