Part 10 (1/2)

His mother abruptly stopped stirring her coffee, and her spine visibly stiffened, but she said nothing.

”The event will occur without delay. Of course it is useless to inform you who is the-”

”Quite useless,” Mrs. Pinkerton broke in; ”my wishes in the matter are not of the slightest consequence to you.”

”On the contrary. Now, look here; don't be so infernally quick to antic.i.p.ate my wilfulness. I want to conform to your wishes if I can.

_Que faire?_”

”We will talk about it after breakfast.”

Accordingly, there was a serious pa.s.sage-at-arms in the library after breakfast. George left the house a conqueror, but the conquered had no sort of intention of abandoning the campaign after a Bull Run defeat. In fact, war had only just been declared. It must not be supposed that it was a war the movements of which could be followed by the acutest military observer; the batteries were all masked, but the gunpowder was there. I felt confident that George would carry everything before him, and he did. He brought Miss Van over to spend the evening, and we had the pleasantest time imaginable. He would not allow his mother to say a word against Miss Van, and made a fair show of proving that the latter had, not only better blood, but also better breeding and a truer sense of propriety than my mother-in-law, that is, ”when it came to the scratch,” as George said. ”But who would give a snap for a young woman who can't throw aside the shackles of conventionality once in a while, and be herself?”

Miss Van was her own jolliest, sweetest self at this time. Her beauty had never been so noticeable: joy is an excellent cosmetic, and love paints far better than rouge or powder.

As soon as Mrs. Pinkerton had recovered from her defeat, and when the engagement had become an acknowledged fact which all the world might know, the wedding began to loom up before us, and I could not help wondering if St. Thomas's Church was to be the scene of as fas.h.i.+onable and grand a display as on the occasion when Bessie and myself were made one.

I felt reasonably certain that Mrs. Pinkerton would make an effort to that end, and I was curious to see how George would look on it.

Bessie, I think, would have been glad to see the marriage take place with as much pomp and show as possible. She was intensely interested in what Clara should wear, and every visit from that young woman was the occasion for a vast deal of confidential and no doubt highly important _tete-a-tete_ consultation.

Mother-in-law sailed into the library one evening with unusual celerity of movement.

”George, dear,” she said, ”this cannot be true! You would not permit such an eccentric, uncivilized proceeding. Surely you will not offend our friends by-”

”Avast there! Our friends be hanged!” cried George wickedly. ”Yes, it's true, too true. The ceremony will be private, and no cards. You can come, though! Next Wednesday, at two o'clock, sharp!”

This was cruel. I could see his mother almost stagger under the blow.

She attempted to remonstrate, but it was too late. George a.s.sured her that ”it was all fixed,” and that Clara had agreed with him regarding the details.

”Honest old John Stephens will tie the knot,” said he, ”and it will be just as tight as if Dr. McCanon manipulated the holy bonds. I trust we shall have the pleasure of your company, mother. Consider yourself invited. A few of the choicest spirits will be on hand. Clara will wear the most exquisite gray travelling suit you ever laid eyes on.”

The widow was flanked, outgeneralled, routed along the whole line. She brought forward all her reserve forces of good-breeding, and thus escaped a disastrous panic by retiring in good order.

The ceremony occurred, as George had announced, the following Wednesday. The near relatives and best friends of the young couple were present, and it was a quiet and thoroughly enjoyable affair for all who partic.i.p.ated. An hour after they had been p.r.o.nounced man and wife, George and his bride rode away to take the train for the mountains.

”And on her lover's arm she leant, And round her waist she felt it fold, And far across the hills they went In that new world which is the old.”

CHAPTER XII.

BABY TALK, OLD DIVES, AND OTHER THINGS.

The cottage seemed dull enough after the departure of George with his bride. Bessie was so absorbed by the care of our little one that she had very little time to think of anything else, and in fact the new-comer, for the time being, monopolized the attention of his grandmother as well as of his mother. I was therefore left to my own resources.

”Baby is not very well, Charlie,” Bessie informed me, one morning, with an anxious air. ”Do you think it would do to wrap him up well and take him for a little ride this afternoon?”

”Yes, that's a good idea. If I can get that black horse at the livery stable, I'll bring him around this afternoon. But I don't see why you should wrap him up. It's hot as blazes.”

”You don't know anything about babies, Charlie. Go along. Get a nice, easy carriage, and we'll take mother with us. I long for a ride.”