CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

THEN THEY WERE MARRIED.

When he bade Alice good-by for a week, Quincy was keeping a promise he had made to his father. The second evening before he had spent with his family at Nahant, and while he was smoking an after-dinner cigar upon the veranda, the Hon. Nathaniel had joined him.

"Quincy," said the latter, "I must ask you when you intend to resume your professional duties. You are now restored to health, and it is my desire that you do so at once."

"While I would not wilfully show disrespect to your wishes, father,"

said Quincy, calmly, "I must say frankly that I do not care to go back to the office. The study of law is repugnant to me, and its practice would be a daily martyrdom."

"What!" cried the Hon. Nathaniel, starting in his chair. "Perhaps, sir, you have fixed upon a calling that is more elevated and enn.o.bling than the law."

"One more congenial, at any rate," remarked Quincy.

"Then you have chosen a profession," said his father with some eagerness. "May I inquire what it is?"

"It can hardly be called a profession," he answered. "I've bought a third interest in a country grocery store."

If the Hon. Nathaniel started before, this last piece of information fairly brought him to his feet. "And may I inquire, sir," he thundered, "if this special partnership in a country grocery store is the summit of your ambitions? I suppose I shall hear next that you are engaged to some farmer's daughter, and propose to marry her, regardless of the wishes of your family, and despite the terrible example supplied by your Uncle James."

"It hasn't come to that yet," remarked Quincy, calmly, "but it may if I find a farmer's daughter who comes up to my ideal of a wife and to whom I can give an honest love."

The Hon. Nathaniel sank back in his chair. Quincy continued, "I will not try to answer your sarcastic reference to the grocery store. It is a good investment and an honorable business, fully as honorable as cheating the prison or the gallows of what is due them; but the summit of my ambition is by no means reached. I am young yet and have plenty of time to study the ground before expanding my career, but I will tell you, privately and confidentially, that my friends have asked me to run for the General Court, and I have about decided to stand as a candidate for nomination as representative from our district."

"I am glad to hear you say that, Quincy," said his father, somewhat mollified, and he edged his arm-chair a little closer to his son, despite the heavy clouds of smoke emitted from Quincy's cigar. "If you get the regular nomination in our district it's tantamount to an election. I need scarcely say that whatever influence I may possess will be exerted in your favor."

"Thank you," said Quincy; "I mean to stump the district, anyway. If I lose the regular nomination I shall take an independent one. I had rather fight my way in than be pushed in."

His father smiled and patted him on the arm. Then they rose from their chairs, Quincy observing that as he was going away early in the morning he would immediately retire.

"That reminds me," said his father. "I have a favor to ask of you, Quincy. It is this, Lord Algernon Hastings, heir to the earldom of Suss.e.x, and his sister, Lady Elfrida, are now in Boston, and bring letters from the Lord High Chancellor, with whom I became acquainted when I was in England, two years ago. I have invited them to visit us here next week, and my wish is that you will spend as much of your time at home as possible and a.s.sist me in entertaining them--I mean the son, of course, particularly."

Quincy's thoughts flew quickly to Nantucket and back. Had he foreseen what was to happen on his coming visit, he would have hesitated still longer, but thinking that, after all, next Sunday's journey might not end any more conclusively than the previous one, he presently turned to his father and answered:

"I will do so. I must go to-morrow, but I will return early on Monday, and will stay at home the entire week."

"I thank you very much, Quincy," said the Hon. Nathaniel, and he laid his hand on his son's shoulder as affectionately as he was capable of doing, when they entered the house.

Lady Elfrida Hastings and her brother, Lord Algernon, arrived in due season, and Quincy was there to a.s.sist at their reception. The former was tall, and dark, and stately; her features were cast in a cla.s.sic mould, but the look in her eye was cold and distant, and the face, though having all the requirements of beauty, yet lacked it. To Mrs.

Sawyer and her daughter, Florence, the Lady Elfrida was a revelation, and they yearned to acquire that statuesque repose that comes so natural to the daughter of an earl. But Maude told her brother that evening that the Lady Elfrida was a "prunes and prisms," and was sure to die an old maid.

Lord Algernon was tall and finely built; he had a profusion of light brown curly hair, and a pair of large blue eyes that so reminded Quincy of Alice that he took to the young lord at once. They rode, played billiards, bowled, and smoked together.

One afternoon while they were enjoying a sail in the bay, Quincy inquired of his guest how he liked America.

"'Pon honor, my dear fellow, I don't know," replied Lord Algernon. "I came here for a certain purpose, and have failed miserably. I am going to sail for home in a week, if my sister will go."

"Then you didn't come to enjoy the pleasures of travel?" remarked Quincy, interrogatively.

"No! By Jove, I didn't. My sister did, and she supposes I did. I'm going to tell you the truth, Mr. Sawyer. I know you will respect my confidence." Quincy nodded.

"The fact is," Lord Algernon continued, "I came over here to find a girl that I'm in love with, but who ran away from me as soon as I told her of it."

"But why?" asked Quincy, not knowing what else to say.

"That's the deuce of it," replied Lord Algernon; "I sha'n't know till I find her and ask her. I met her at Nice, in France; she was with her mother, a Mdme. Archimbault; the daughter's name was Celeste--Celeste Archimbault. They said they were not French, they were French Canadians; came from America, you know. I was traveling as plain Algernon Hastings, and I don't think she ever suspected I was the son of an earl. I proposed one evening. She said she must speak to her mother, and if I would come the next evening about seven o'clock, she would give me her answer, and I thought by the look in her eye that she herself was willing to say 'Yes' then. But when I called the next evening they had both gone, no one knew where."

"You are sure she was not an adventuress?" inquired Quincy. "Excuse the question, my lord, but you really knew nothing about her?"

"I knew that I loved her," said Lord Algernon, bluntly, "and I would give half of my fortune to find her. I know she was a true, pure, beautiful girl, and her mother was as honest an old lady as you could find in the world."

"I wish I could help you," remarked Quincy.

"Thank you," said Lord Algernon; "perhaps you may be able to some day.

Don't forget her name, Celeste Archimbault; she is slight in figure, graceful in her carriage, ladylike in her manners. She has dark hair, large, dreamy black eyes, with a hidden sorrow in them; in fact, a very handsome brunette. Here is my card, Mr. Sawyer. I will write my London address on it, and if you ever hear of her, cable me at once and I'll take the next steamer for America."

Quincy said that he would, and put the card in his cardcase.

He excused himself to Lord Algernon and his sister that evening; a prior engagement made it necessary for him to leave for Boston early next morning, and the farewells were then spoken. Lord Algernon's last words to Quincy were whispered in his ear, "Don't forget her name--Celeste Archimbault!"

The next Sunday morning Quincy and Leopold, as they approached Mrs.

Gibson's house on the Cliff, found Rosa Very standing at the little gate. She had on the white dress that she had worn the Sunday before, but which Leopold had not seen. Upon her head was a wide-brimmed straw hat, decked with ribbons and flowers, which intensified the darkness of her hair and eyes."

"Don't forget her name--Celeste Archimbault," came into Quincy's mind, but he said, "Nonsense," to himself, and dismissed the thought.

"All ready for a walk on the Cliff?" asked Leopold, as he raised his hat and extended his hand to Rosa. She shook hands with him and then with Quincy. She opened the little gate, placed her hand on Leopold's arm and they walked on up the Cliff Road.

As Quincy entered the little parlor, Alice sprang toward him with a cry of joy. He caught her in his arms, and this time one kiss did not suffice, for a dozen were pressed on hair and brow and cheek and lips.

"It is so long since you went away," said Alice.

"Only one short week," replied Quincy.

"Short! Those six days have seemed longer than all the time we were together at Eastborough. I cannot let you go away from me again," she cried.

"Stay with Me, My Darling, Stay," sang Quincy, in a low voice, and Alice tried to hide her blushing face upon his shoulder.

Then they sat down and talked the matter over. "I must leave you," said Quincy, "and only see you occasionally, and then usually in the presence of others, unless--"

"Unless what?" cried Alice, and a sort of frightened look came into her face.

"Unless you marry me at once," said Quincy. "I don't mean this minute; say Wednesday of this coming week. I have a license with me I got in Boston yesterday morning. We'll be married quietly in this little room, in which you first told me that you loved me. We could be married in a big church in Boston, with bridesmaids, and groomsmen, and music on a big organ. We could make as big a day of it as they did down to Eastborough."

"Oh, no!" said Alice; "I couldn't go through that. I cannot see well enough, and I might make some terrible blunder. I might trip and fall, and then I should be so nervous and ashamed."

"I will not ask you to go through such an ordeal, my dearest. I know that we could have all these grand things, and for that reason, if for no better one, I'm perfectly willing to go without them. No, Alice, we will be married here in this room. We will deck it with flowers,"

continued Quincy. "Leopold will go to Boston to-morrow and get them.

Rosamond's Bower was not sweeter nor more lovely than we will make this little room. I will get an old clergyman; I don't like young ones; Leopold shall be my best man and Rosa shall be your bridesmaid. Mrs.