Democratic Sentinel, Volume 4, Number 1, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 February 1880 — THE MOCK MABRIAGE. [ARTICLE]

THE MOCK MABRIAGE.

“One, two, three,” count#*? Groce Lewis as she went on too of a gray woolen sock she waa> Mtfctting for her father. So busy ws» with her work she did not heed 1M» warning from the old-fashioned brass knooker. But she was soon made aware' of the presence of a stranger by a loud knocking; she immediately dropped bet Work to obey its summons. “Can you inform me where Isaac Sterling resides?” was the inquiry of a dark-eyed distingue-looking stranger* “His house is on that rise of ground a few rods distant,” was the reply, while the pretty haud of Grace pointed out the direction. With a “thank you” the gentleman took his departure, while Grace closed the door and went back to* her work.

' l One, two, three,” again counted* Grace, and then she soliloquized. “ What splendid black eyes he had. I wonder if he is a relative of the SterJingejbe is certainly very fine-looking; nits hair atftd whiskers were so nicely trimnysd that any one would know almost to a certainty that he was just from the city. There 1 I’ve forgotten to narrow. I wonder what I was thinking about,” murmured the> maiden, as she raveled out the work flw* Bramble fingers had wrought while the thoogbts liacl been reaching out aftev the stranger she had seen for scarcely a moment. The stitohes were soon taken up and the work arranged, and agnitsk she resumed her soliloquy, for the Imr young girl was much in the habit ol talking to herself when left alone, as was the case this afternoon, her parents having gone to town to do their annual trading. * “ I’m sure that fine, open countenance is the index of a well-balanced mind, and that he ; s to be trusted and honored. He could command, if necessary, but he would sooner rule by love.” Then she began to compare the faces, forms, and manners of her country associates with this elegant stranger. Ah I Grace, do not forget that beneath those rough extoriors beat warm, trustful hearts; those toil-hardened hands are quite as capable of supporting pleasant homes as the smooth, white ones of the city gentry. The eyes beneath the bronzed forehead can express the tenderest affection as well as though the burning sun and biting blast had never beaten upon the stalwart forms of their possessors. Yet you have a perfect right to admire the manly form and cultivated face of the now arrival.

Country customs made it an easy matter for Albert Sterling to visit his pretty neighbor in company with his cousin, James Brouson. And thus Grace Lewis was introduced to the strange gentleman, whom sho had that day directed on his way. Two weeks later the roses on Grace’s cheeks grew broader ampler violet eyes brighter, when Mr. Bronson asked for the honor of her company to attend a very select party to be held about ten miles from Greenville. Never before had she been so fastidious about a party dress. There was positively nothing in all the village stores that she would wear. Father must go with her to the next town, where there was a choice selection of goods tp pick from. And as Mr. Lewis was a very indulgent father, and love<l his only child with more than ordinary affection, her caprices were indulged on this occasion to the full extent of her desires.

It was a merry party that gathered in the great hall, at “The Traveler’s Best,” ou a beautiful evening in the early winter, not so many years ago as to need the memory of the oldest inhabitant to chronicle the event.

Among the bright, bewitching faces that were to be seen on that particular occasion, not one was so intellectually beautiful as our Grace. At least so thought James Bronson. The sweet, bright beauty of the little country maiden had taken his heart by storm on that dark, wintry day when he called at the door of the comfortable-looking farm-house to inquire the way to his Uncle Sterling’s. And now, after a better acquaintance, love real and abiding had taken the place of admiration so% the lovely girl at his side. Grace Lewis was rather below medium height; she possessed a wellrounded form, a low, wide forehead, a pair of blue eyes that could sparklo with mirth when one rejoiced, or weep with those who wept; her cheeks wore the delicate bloom of apple blossoms, while the well-formed nose, though possibly a trifle too large for artistic beauty, betokened, energy and perseverance; the dimpled chin was not so small as-to have lost itself in the general outline of the face, but was a perfectly characteristic feature; the mouth was neither of the “rosebud” or “cherry” order, nevertheless it was pretty and expressive of womanly tenderness and refinement. And as Grace emerges from the dressing room and enters the large hall, which is well filled with laughing girls and gallant beaux, we will take observation with the rest of the oompany of her robe and its fitness for the occasion. It is of white alpaca, edged at the snowy throat and wrists with soft, filmy lace. Her only ornaments are a few sprays of delicate blue forget-me-nots twined amid the soft, flossy curls of nut-brown hair, a few knots of blue ribbon arranged with careless grace upon waist and sleeves; a rich sash, of the same delicate hue as the flowers, encircled her wellrounded form, completing the simple bat stylish outfit

“ What a lovely face,” was whispered by one and another as Grace promenaded up and down the long hall, leaning on the arm of her escort, James Bronson, who seemingly had no eyes to see aught else than the fair, bright jewel he was wearing so near his heart. “Don’t they make a handsome couple?” said Margie Riley. “And they seem to be so fond and Eroud of each other,” added Nellie lason. “I’ll warrant it was a case of love at first sight. By-the-way, wouldn’t it be splendid if we could have a wedding after the danoe?” “Wemight have a mock marriage,”

said Mark Johnson, “ and it would have all the eclat of a res il wedding.” “That will be just th e thing,” said Maggie Riley, who wa s leaning on Mark’s arm. “Let’s have it arranged to come off just before supp er.” “Will you honor me, Alias Margie?” and away she was whirled through the mazes of the Virginia reel, and her companions were left to ajmmge the festivities of a wedding ceromou y. “I’ll agree to hnnt up the para on and have him so well disguised that x tot one of the company will know him, il' you’ll manage to have that city chaj > and Grace Lewis join hands,” said J oseph Farnum. “And while we are ab out it we may as well have a double wed ding, and so have the more fan.”

All agreed to these proposition! t, for it was only to be a mock ceremony., and it did not matter who or how many" were the participants. Nona noted the evil sparkle of the minister gray eyes of young Farnum, noT heart’ his inaudible mutterings as he lMt tha hall for a short time. “Cc'#ae, Barnes, you and Miss Grace are wanted .to fill out our programme, J said Mark* Johnson, an hour later. “We are to have a mock marriage. Ttare are to be two tuples, and the word has gone forth that j v °u and Grace are to stand for one con'ple. and Margie and myaeM fear the otha*-”

“Oh, no—no! not that!” exclaimed Grace. “ Marriage is something too sa- | cred t®> be trifled with in that way,” ana f the bloom on her cheek deepened, as her fine perceptions looked-on the fearful responsibilities such a programme might lay upon them. **Orwr ‘ White Rose’ takes the matter too said Mr. Bronson, as he drew the: slight form of the trisntonoa girl nearer tie his side. “It is onSy to please the company for a moment, and you’ll not refuse to stand by me* Mist Grace.” His dark, Iratnous eyes were upfle her, and the low tones of that finelv modulated voice Beemed to drown the 1 voice of conscience; and just then Margie joined the group, and was duly informed that she was to be the bride of iMivrk Jehaaou. At first she danurred ( on nccotcnfi of her cress, which was of crimson «ilk, richly trimmed with bla’tk:-Dace. Ifc was exceedingly becoming to the tall, dark-eyed girl, but not just what her good taste would have dictated for a- bridal robe. However, 1 her objection was soon overruled, on the ground that she was among the first to propose this part of the evening’s amusement.

And to her amusement, for the h<mr, ■ was the main thing to be considered* 1 There were uc nice points td bo geA over iu her mind. She usually acte4 from impulse, und if, afterward, there were any regrets, they were disposed of as quickly as possible. “A short life , and a merry one” was Margie Riley’s motto.

*ls it right?” was the first questioning thought with Grace, when anything new was proposed. Sometimes she was overruled lay a stronger will-force, as in the present case; but true repentance was sure to follow, as was shown in her future actions. “ The peTson’s here 1” said Joe Farnum; “and you’d never think, ho belonged to our company;” and he rubbed his hands energetically, while his cold gray eyes spanned with satis taction. The bridal pa rty were soon arranged and the parson introduced to the company.- Certainty no one recognized the face, Which* was framed about with silvery haftitod whiskers; a kind, fatherly face it waft the mild. blue eyeshaving an expression id deep tenderness. Kneeling the little group he offered up a ferwrwi prayer to the allwise Father. And so earnest was the petition that Grace troubled, while the roses upon her cheeks’ grew strangely white. To her all this’ was a fearful mockery. Again his dirjk eyes were upon her, and a look of saniling assurance quieted her fears, though it did, not silence the little monitor with in that called out earnestly against the supposed profanity. The marriage service was very short and simple, closing with the words: "What God has joined together let no mam put asunder.” A second time was the ceremony repeated, and James Bronson and Grace Lewis, Mark Johnson and Margie s Riley had. clasped hands in the holy bands of wedlock, and immediately were retiming the congratulations of their friends "with j mock gravity. “Well,” said Mark JohnsoD, as }js kissed his new-made bride, “ the whole thing is what I call a splendid piece of acting. I declare I felt as though the old gentleman was in real earnest. By the way, it is about time he dropped his disguise and made himself known.” “But, my friends,” said the parson, “this is no joke, whatever you may have expected. I was called upon to marry those I should find standing at this bridal altar. lam an ordained minister of God, and what I have done has. been done honestly and earnestly.” “Don’t tell me that!” exclaimed Grace. “Don’t tell me that I am an unsought and unloved bride!” And the frightened girl fell fainting into the arms of her husband. Something over a year has passed away since that eventful party at the Travelers’ Rest, in the flourishing town of Greenville. It is early spring, and the blue violets and sweet-scented arbutus flowers have blossomed over the grave of Mrs. Margie Riley-Johnson for many days. In a far-away city James Bronson, attorney, is hurrying down a crowded thoroughfare, seemingly engaged in pleasant communion with his own thoughts. However much in haste his wedding was, it is evident, by his handsome faco and beaming eyes, that the honeymoon is not on the wane, as far as his happiness is concerned. He carries in his hand a deliciously-fragrant bouquet, which he has purchased and arranged for the express admiration of hin beautiful bride. With light, quick steps he ascends the marble staircase that leads to his wife’s boudoir, at the entrance of which he has not the least doubt but that he shall meet the dearest treasure of his heart.

But, alas! this day James Bronson is to meet with the first real grief his manhood has ever known; for no loved wife meets him at the door; no jeweled fingers clasp the fragrant blossoms he has arranged with such exquisite skill, just to hear sweet praises from her lips. Instead there is a tiny perfumed note on the dressing-case addressed to himself, in her well-known delicate hand. He opens it hastily and reads:

Dear Husband: You will, no doubt, be eumrised but I trust not grieved when you read theoe lines. For more than a year I have been trespassing upon your kind fomearance, thinking each day or each week it should be the last. But you were so kind to me, and I I loved you so dearly, that it seemed like crushing my heart to lose tight of you. By no word or act of yours have you given me occasion to think 1 was an unloved wife. When you were with me I was always happy. But when left to myself some evil genius is constantly haunting me with the thought that you cannot love me; and had never a thought of marrying a simple country maiden till one was thoughtlessly thrust upon you. You pity me, and that is why you indulge Jand caress me. Your love would make me a thousand times happier, but not your pity. So I leave you, that I may go to some far-off corner of the earth to live alone, tinwep", unhonored aud unsung! You understand the law, and probably know how to have our marriage ties torn asunder, whenever you may desire it. Always your loving but unhappy Grace. No wonder the face of the young husband became as white as it would one day be when it should be upturned to the gaze of theenrioujfchjrong} when

no breath would pulsate through his ashen lips. “ And all this time while I have been blissfully happy she has been tormented with doubts and fears. And all because that scoundrel, Famum, waited not to give me time and a fitting opportunity to tell her that she was more precious to me than my own life. For her sake only do I wish that I could have had the privilege of proposing as other men do. Poor, sensitive heart, how it must have suffered. But where can ehe have gone, is the question?” And for ten minutes James Bronson satin a state of perplexity. “ Find her I will! ” he at length exclaimed. “ What is life, fortune or fame without she is with me to share it?”

The dinner was untasted. After hastily packing a traveling bag with a few articles of wearing apparel, and giving the servants some directions, he started for the nearest railway station. He wotald go to her father’s old farmhouse first. Most likely she had returned to those who had loved and protected her for many years. And the more he thought of her the more sure was he that he should find her beneath ! the old roof-tree.

“ Greenville 1 ” called out the con- . «luctor, as he opened the door of the ■•well-filled carriage. Scarcely had the ; *cars reached the station ere James ! B ronson’s feet touched the broad platj :form of the somewhat pretentious de- ■ J?ot. It was dusk when he arrived at the "home of Father Lewis. He only | brought grievous news to the aged (pair, Tor they knew nothing of the i whereabouts of t.b<* iron/loroF . “ I sav, Bronson, have you noticed these literary gems that appear so regularly in the Weekly ?” said Dr. Gregg to his traveling companion, one brigat, pure morning, as the two sat in a private parlor of a first-class hotel. For two years the Bronson residence had been closed, and for the greater p.trt oi the time its proprietor had wandersd from inland town to seaport;' through city, village and country, always hoping to find his on© pearl. Many a frail sister had received aid from his hands; for he thought, “ who. knows btit my Grace might be in as great need?”

All the time Dr. Gregg addressed him he had been sitting by an open window; but his head was bower!, and his mind so occupied with sad r-bougfits that he heeded neither the per bme of

the flowers, borne in upon the breeze, nor the passing throng. Not until the doctor addressed him the second time, did he seem aware of another’s presence. “No; I’ve read nothing but advertisements for the last six months. Once those little gems of literature were hailed with delight, when my wife listened to my reading or lead them herself. It was one of my pleasures to hear her criticisms, for she had a just, appreciation of literary culture;.” “Well, you ought to read these. It is not long since they first began to make their regular appearance. There must be a ii9w celebrity beginning to ascend the firmament of the literary world. The author is evidently u. woman who has suffered and grown strong. Her articles are seldom lengthy, but always fresh, racy and delightfully readable. She speaks directly to the heart. If the suu is shining ever so brightly, when you are reading one of her penpictures that chanced to be written when dark elt»uds were hovering about her, you will feel the breath of the cold north wind as it comes through the tasseled pine, and feel the sleet striking edgewise against your cheek. Again, if she is in a merry mood, no matter how dark the clouds may be about yourself, yon will feel the gleams of a sunny day radiating through the befogged chambers of your soul. I should like to become acquainted with the gifted writer.” “You are certainly eloquent in her praises. Under what nom de plume does she write?” inquired Mr. Bronson, with more than ordinary interest. “ Grace De Ormo.” “Let me read the article in that paper, please. You have quite aroused my curiosity.” Was it because the sweet name of Grace was attached to the paper that made the little sketch seem as familiar to him as household words ? or was there some especial attraction in the statement made at the close of the sketch: “One who seeks for happiness in the affections of a pure, fond, heart will as often find it in lowly hut as lordly hall.” Over and over again did he read these words, and each time he became more thoroughly convinced that they were written aqiecially for him, for the Weekly had been his favorite literary paper for many years. Suddenly he threw down the paper, saying he had letters of import ance to write, and went to his own room.

“Mrs. Bnown, put by your work and come down to the parlor this evening. Another gue st arrived last night, and I noticed he seemed quite inclined to melancholy, although’ the ladies all did theiv very best to entertain him. I know that one of your gifts is to cheer the despondent, and thus augment your own rather scanty pleasures. I think he must be a professional man, but it don’t matter. I’m sure you will do him good,” and garrulous Mrs. Downing smoothed back her silvery tresses and straightened the folds of her black silk dress in a very complacent manner. For ten years Mrs. Downing had been a widow, and during those years the yearly income left her by her “lovely man,” her “deal,devoted husband,” had been greatly increased by the well-to-do “guests” who found an elegant and agreeable home beneath the really-hoepitable roof. O n this particular evening, Mrs. Brown would much rather have kept her room and continued at the little writingdesk ; but her hostess had been like a mother for long, weary months, and she would not now refuse so small a request. So she put away her writing material, and, with a glance in the mirror, announced herself ready to go down to the parlor.

“Not in that black robe, Mrs. Brown, though that is nice enough to wear on most occasions, but this time I want to dictate a little.” And she stepped to Mrs. Brown’s dressing-closet, and brought out a soft, white tissue, trimmed with numerous frills and flutings. “There, you are to wear that dress to-night.” All the time Mrs. Brown was going through the mysteries of a fresh toilet, the busy, tongue of the amiable hostess rattled on. At last the soft laces about throat and wrists were adjusted, the delicate blue forget-me-nots arranged among the fluffy curls, and the last delicate knot of azure ribbon in place, and the usually-plain-robed Mrs. Brown looked like a fairy queen. Mrs. Downing made no hesitation in complimenting the beautiful appearance of her favorite.

A murmur of pleased surprise ran through the room where were seated in groups some fifteen or twenty persons of both sexes, when Mrs. Downing entered and introduced Mrs. Brown to the stranger guest. Not very long after the formal introduction, Mrs. Brown found herself an eager listener to the pleasant voice of Mr. Raymond. It was not so much vrhat he said, as the tone and manner,

that interested her. These constantly reminded her of another who had been her constant companion in Hie “long ago.” And then she found that Mr. Raymond’s eyes had the same dark hne and the same expression of tender regard as had those other ones that were, as she believed, forever closed to her. “Always of him ” ran the undercurrent of her thoughts, as she listened to Mr. Raymond’s incidents of travel, or his criticisms upon various authors.

“Ah! ” whispered Mrs. Downing, to one of her “ guests,” “ I know that will make a match, yet. Mr. Raymond ha* not once taken his eyes from her pretty face since I introduced him. And there’s Miss Pike, as mad as a wet hen because I brought Mrs. Brown down to the parlors. Poor thing! she keeps herself too close in her room. It must be two years since she lost her husband, and yet she keeps out of society as much as though she had just put on mourning. She looks beautiful tonight; there is snch a delicate color in her cheek, and such a brilliant light in her eyes. Mrs. Downing was in her element if there were any “matches ” to be made among her friends. And more than one congenial pair could thank the hostess of Downing House for their conjugal felicity. It was very evident to the company that Mr. Raymond had found a congefii 1 companion, though he was a man who had apparently long since passed the meridian of life. Though his eyes had all the fire and sparkle of youth, yet his once-dark locks were as white as the sire’s, who has long passed the age of three score years and ten allotted to man.

it was rumored that some great trouble had prematurely bleached his locks. The tinted cheek and smooth, white forehead still retained the appearance of a man who had not reached the prime of life. This evening was but a prophecy s of many others equally delightful to all parties. Mrs. Brown always resolved that she would not be one of the parlor visitors again. But Mrs. Downing and her guests would not hear to her remaining in her rooms. And so she was lured on for hours together. One morning in August, she found herself feeling weary and dispirited. She bad no desire to open the little writing desk that stood invitingly near the window, and sewing was distasteful to her. So she put on the dainty sunhat and strolled out over the hills to the point of woodland that overlooked a tiny lake that lay like a sparkling gem upon the bosom of mother earth. Seating herself upon the broad roots of an. old tree, she gave herself up to her own. wandering thoughts. There was something peculiarly soothing in the soft breeze as it came across the cool waters of the little lake, and in the gentle murmuring of the wavelets as they came dashing in regular intervals against the shore, while the birds overhead twittered about their; nests, intent upon their work. How she longed for some of the pleasures ofi other days. And the last few days had. shown her how utterly alone she was. How little the society of crowded hallr. added to her real happiness. Yet she was thankful to be appreciated in a land of strangers. “Good morning, Mrs. Brown. I did not hear the flutter of your wings, but most assuredly I was thinking of you, long before I caught a glimpse of your charming self.” And with an “If you’ll, allow me,” Mr. Raymond seated' him-' self on the old mossy root by her side. - “I did not know you were given to I flattery, Mr. Raymond.” “Nor am I, Mrs. Brown, and so to' come at once to my subject. I will own., I have sought your presence to make a : confession. Possibly you may think me somewhat hasty, and lest you should ; misjudge me I will inform you that I must leave town to-night or to-morrow morning early; and this is probably my last chance of enjoying the society of Mrs. Brown. Under all these considerations I trust you will not be offended when I tell you that I have become strongly attached to you. I love you deeply and truly, as a mah can love but once in a lifetime. Can you not return this aflection and become my wife?” “Oh, Mr. Raymond I I am so sorry to have you tell me of a love that cannot be returned. Surely I would have spared you this had I a thought of anything so serious,” said Mrs. Brown, with, paling cheek and tearful eye. “Must I understand by what you say that you cannot love me—that you will not be my wife ?” “Indeed, you must. For, although I was an unloved bride, I loved my husband too intensely to ever love another.”

“Somewhere I have read that ‘one who seeks for happiness in the affections of a true, fond heart would find it.’ But it does not prove true in my case unless by some means more potent I can win your love. Will you not give me at least the hope of winning your affections in the not-far-off future?” “Oh, no! I cannot—l might pity you, and do sympathize with you. But pity is not love, as I learned to my grief long, long ago;” and sobs choked the utterance of the grief-stricken woman, as she buried her face in her hands. “Oh, Gracie! How could you ever think I did not love you?” and a strong right arm was thrown about the weeping form. Instantly her face was raised. That voice; what did it mean? And there lay the silvery hair and whiskers belonging to Mr. Raymond at her feet. But her eyes beheld the dark locks and beaming eyes of one who was dearer than life itself. “My loved one!” were all the words she uttered, but her arms were wound about nis neck as convulsively as a drowning man catches at whatever keep him afloat. After she became a little more calm, Mr. Raymond, or rather Mr. Bronson (for it was he), said with a merry twinkle in his eyes, “Mrs. Brown, will you be my wife ? I love you as but few men love, and I have tried hard to win your heart and hand. Or,” and now there was a sudden quaver in his voice and a downcast look in his eyes, as he continued, “is Mr. Brown something more than a myth, and am I still to go mourning for my lost love?” “Mr. Brown is a myth, of course, and if you really desire my presence I’ll be your own Grace forever and ever.” Mrs. Downing was greatly surprised when her favorite boarder was introduced as the wife of Mr. Raymond, to avoid the publicity of the gossips. Of course certain portions of their story had to be told, and remarked upon. Miss Pike thought it very romantic, and quite as good as a novel.' But she was quite sure she would not have left a husband if she had obtained one by a mock marriage.