Pendletime received him, thanked him profusely for his munificent gift, telling him at the same time that she should certainly never have accepted such a costly present from any one who was not connected or about to be connected with her family. Mr. Fabian bowed deprecatingly and asked if he might be permitted to see Miss Wood. Surely he might, she had only intercepted him to thank him for his gift. Then she told him that he would find Violet alone in the drawing room. He went in, and found the little creature perched upon the music stool, before the open piano, trying a new piece of music. She lighted down like a little bird from a twig and came to meet him. He greeted his betrothed with more warmth of love than a younger man might have ventured upon--but, then, Mr. Fabian was no freshman in the college of love. And Violet, though she did not like to be squeezed so tight and kissed so much, thought it was all right, since he was her first lover and her betrothed husband.

She was not sufficiently in love with him to be afraid of him. This was as if one of her school girl friends had hugged and kissed her so much.

When they were seated side by side on the sofa, Mr. Fabian told her that immediately after their wedding breakfast they should take the train for New York and thence sail for Liverpool. They should reach London near the beginning of the fashionable season, which is not winter, as with us, but spring.

Violet listened in the rapture of antic.i.p.ation.

"And at the end of the London season we will make a leisurely tour through England--see the monuments of its great old history; palaces and castles of kings and chieftains who have been dust for ages. Then the homes and haunts of the great poets and painters."

The door opened, and the servant announced a visitor. Mr. Fabian, secure now of his prize, arose and said good morning, leaving Violet to entertain one of her young adorers. Mr. Fabian went home and sought his father in the library, where the old man now pa.s.sed much of his time.

"Well, my dear sir, it is all settled. With your approbation, we--Miss Violet Wood and myself--will be married on the fourteenth proximo, and leave for Europe immediately afterward," said Mr. Fabian, seating himself.

"That is right. I am glad that you will sail in February. You will thereby escape the winds of March and the tempests of the spring equinox," said the Iron King, sententiously.

"I am very glad you approve," said Mr. Fabian.

Old Aaron Rockharrt nodded in silence.

Fabian looked at him; saw that the old man looked grave, depressed, yet stern and strong as adamant. He felt very sorry for his father. His own present happiness rendered good-natured Mr. Fabian very compa.s.sionate toward the lonely old widower. He had something, inspired by this compa.s.sion, to suggest to the old man, yet he feared to do so straightforwardly.

"Father," he said at length, for he didn't mind lying the least in the world--"Father, I heard a strange report about you this morning."

"Indeed! What was it? That I had failed in business, or quadrupled my fortune?" inquired the egotist, who was always interested when the question concerned himself.

"Neither, sir. I heard you were going to be married."

"Fabian!" sternly exclaimed the Iron King, darkly gathering his brows.

"Yes, sir," said the benevolent Mr. Fabian, who, now that the ice was broken, could go on lying glibly with the best intentions and without the slightest scruple; "yes, sir; you know such rumors must necessarily get afloat about such a fine-looking, marriageable man as yourself."

"Ah! and since the community have made so free, pray what lady's name have they honored me by a.s.sociating with mine?" inquired the Iron King somewhat sarcastically, yet not ill-pleased to learn that he was still to be considered a great prize in the matrimonial market.

"Why, of course there could be but one lady in the question; and equally, of course, you will be able to place her," said Mr. Fabian, smiling.

"Upon my soul, I am not."

"Well, then, the lady to whom you are reported to be engaged is the beautiful Mrs. Bloomingfield."

"Who?"

"The beautiful and accomplished Mrs. Bloomingfield, with whom you sat and talked during the whole evening of the governor's State dinner party."

"Oh, the widow of General Bloomingfield, who died three years ago. Yes, I remember her--a very fine creature, most certainly--but I never dreamed of her in the light of a wife. In fact, I never dreamed of marrying again," said the Iron King, speaking with unusual gentleness.

Mr. Fabian laughed in his sleeve. He thought of the soft place in the hard head of the Iron King, a weak part in the strong character of old Aaron Rockharrt--personal vanity.

"With all possible respect and submission, my dear father, I would suggest that if you never thought of marrying again, you should do so now."

"Fabian, I am seventy-seven years old."

"In years, yes; but that is nothing to you. You are not half that age in health, strength, vigor, and activity of mind and body. What man of forty do you know who has anything approaching your energy?"

"None that I know of, indeed, Fabian," said the Iron King, softening into complacency.

"No, none," a.s.sented Mr. Fabian. "Men die of old age at almost any time in their lives--at forty, fifty, sixty, seventy--but you in your strength of manhood are likely to reach your hundredth year and to be a hale old man then. Now, and for many years to come, you will not be old at all."

"Yes; I think I have twenty-five or thirty years longer to live."

"And will you live those years in loneliness? Cora will be sure to marry. A young woman like Cora will not wear the willow long, believe me. And when Cora leaves you, what then will you do? You have no other daughter or granddaughter. As for my promised wife, you yourself made it a condition of our marriage that we should have an establishment of our own."

"For the dignity of the house of Rockharrt. Yes, Fabian."

"And when Cora shall have left you, you will be alone--you who require the gentle ministrations of woman more than any man I ever knew."

"Fabian!" exclaimed old Aaron Rockharrt, suddenly and suspiciously, bringing his strong black eyes to bear pointedly upon the face of his son. "What is your motive in wishing me to marry?"

"Heaven bear me witness, sir, that my motive, my only motive, is your own comfort and happiness," said Fabian, and this time he spoke the truth.

"I believe you, Fabian. But this lady with whom the world a.s.sociates my name is too young for me. She cannot be more than twenty-five," said Old Aaron Rockharrt reflectively.

"Well, sir! What did the sages and prophets recommend to David? A young woman to comfort the king. I am not very well posted in Bible history, but I think that is the story," said Mr. Fabian.

CHAPTER X.

ANOTHER FINE WEDDING.

The marriage of Mr. Fabian Rockharrt and Miss Violet Wood was to be the great event of the winter.

When the approaching wedding was announced in the newspapers of the day, it caused a sensation, I a.s.sure you. Mr. Fabian Rockharrt, the eldest son of the renowned millionaire, the confirmed bachelor, for whom "caps"

had been "set" for the last twenty-five years; who had flirted with maidens who were now wives of elderly men and mothers of grown-up daughters, and in some cases even grandmothers of growing boys and girls--Mr. Fabian Rockharrt to be won at last by a little wood violet!

Preposterous!

The fourteenth of February, Saint Valentine's Day, the Birds' Wedding Day, dawned in that Southern climate like a May day. The snow had vanished weeks before; the ground was warm and moist; the gra.s.s was springing; the trees were budding; the wood violets were opening their sweet eyes in sheltered nooks of the forest.

I do not know in what mood Violet Wood arose on that momentous morning of her life--probably in a very pleasant one. Her chaperon confided to an intimate friend that the child was not in love; that she had never been in love in her life, and did not even know what being in love meant; but that she was rather fond of the fine fellow who adored her, flattered her, petted her, promised her everything she wanted, and whose enormous wealth const.i.tuted him a sort of magician who could command the riches, the splendors, the luxuries, and all the delights of life! She was full of rapturous antic.i.p.ations of extravagant enjoyments.

Mr. Fabian Rockharrt, utterly unprincipled as he was, yet had the grace to recognize the purity of the young being whom he was about to make his wife. He was very kind hearted and good humored with every one; he really loved this girl, as he had never loved any one in all his life; and it was his pleasure to indulge her in every wish and whim--even to suggest and create in her mind more wishes and more whims, such as she never could have imagined, so that he might have the joy of gratifying them.

Before starting to church that morning his father called him into the library for a private interview, and lectured him as if he had been a lad of twenty-one, who was about to contract marriage--lectured him on the duties of a husband, of the master of a household and the head of a family.

The arrival of Mr. Clarence from North End, and of Mr. Sylvan from West Point by the same train, to be present at the wedding, interrupted the bridegroom's reflections.

"It is now nine o'clock, boys. You have just time to get your breakfast comfortably and dress yourselves properly before we leave for the church. So look sharp," was the greeting of Mr. Fabian, as he shook hands with his brother and his nephew.

At ten o'clock the carriage containing Mr. Rockharrt, Mrs. Rothsay and Cadet Haught left the house for the church, which they entered by the central front door, from which they were marshaled up the center aisle to their seats in the right hand front pew.