"Well, mamma, you know I am obliged to seek the protection of a husband that has been denied me as a daughter; I hope you will not miss me very much. Will you not kiss me good-bye?"

Her mother turned her cheek, but Dexie waited in vain for the kind parting word she longed for.

"I am sorry to leave you, mamma. Think kindly of me sometimes. Guy takes me because he thinks I need his love and care."

"Go to him, then! You have made your choice!"

With this dismissal, Dexie hurried to the hall where Guy was awaiting her, wiping her eyes as she went.

"Well, for my part, I'm glad to see the last of you," said Gussie, following slowly after her sister. "You have always stood in my way, and your Puritanical notions have spoiled many pleasures for me; so whatever tears I shed will be tears of joy."

"Thank you, Gussie; that speech is all that is needed to remove every vestige of regret I may have felt at leaving home," was Dexie's reply, an unusual light in her dark eyes. "Come, Guy, I am quite ready," and without turning her head she passed out the door of her own home to the untried future that she was to share with Guy Traverse.

"My heart aches for you, my darling," and Guy pressed the hand that rested on his arm. "Let Gussie shed her tears of joy while she can, for, if I am not mistaken, they will flow for another cause before the week is out."



CHAPTER XLIV.

A kinder welcome could not be imagined than Dexie received from Guy's sister when they arrived in Boston, for Mrs. Graham had heard so much of Guy's "little girl" that she took Dexie to her heart at once.

The mental disquietude and physical weariness that she had passed through kept Dexie confined to her room for two days, but on the morning of her third day in Boston she stepped out the church-door a willing, happy bride.

"Really, I can hardly believe that I have been turned into a married woman since I entered the church," she said softly, as Guy seated her in the carriage. "Does it seem real to you, Guy?"

"Well, hardly, dearest; but I am going to prove the reality of it, and use the authority just granted to me, by insisting that you put aside the thoughts that have made your face so sad. Let us think of the new, happy life before us, and forget the trials we have passed through. We are going to be very happy together, my little wife."

"Yes, I am sure of that. I believe our quiet and unconventional wedding will bring us quite as much happiness as if we had been married with all the fuss that generally attends affairs of this kind."

(They were driving back to Mrs. Graham's, where a few friends had been invited to meet them before they left for a short trip.)

"Yes, indeed," was the reply; "and I think we will enjoy it in a greater degree than if we were surrounded by a crowd of distracting friends, though I believe it is usually considered the one time in a person's life when friends are most appreciated. Why it should be so I cannot see, if all love is like ours. I have obtained my heart's desire at last. This happy day has been long delayed, but is none the less dear for the waiting, and you can never say again that you feel 'alone' in the world."

Dexie gave him a grateful look, as there was no time for words before the carriage stopped at Mrs. Graham's hospitable doorway, where smiling faces awaited them. Kisses and congratulations were not wanting, and the few friends who had accompanied them to church followed them into the house. A few hours later the happy married pair left for New York, where they spent a pleasant season viewing the sights of the metropolis.

On returning to Boston, Guy was offered a position in a large establishment, the headquarters of the firm, doing business in Lennoxville, in which he was previously engaged. This arrangement proved agreeable to all parties, and made it unnecessary for Dexie to return to the scene of her former trials.

Dexie soon found herself mistress of a charming little house, situated in one of Boston's beautiful suburbs, where her windows looked out on a lovely prospect. Here the time flew by so rapidly in caring for her dainty rooms and blossoming borders that her thoughts seldom dwelt on the unhappy weeks which preceded her marriage.

It was a delightful surprise when the dear old piano came with the rest of her belongings from home, but the grateful letter of thanks which Mrs. Sherwood received was tossed aside without a word, though the letter had not failed to touch the mother's heart.

The piano had been a silent rebuke, and Mrs. Sherwood had been pleased to remove it out of her sight, wishing in her heart that the memories which troubled her could be as easily banished.

But no other piano could have been half so dear to the heart of Dexie, and when she sat down before her beloved instrument the first chords she struck brought happy tears. It was like the greeting of a dear friend long absent. Little wonder her fingers lingered lovingly over the keys as piece followed piece.

"Dexie," said Guy, coming over to her side and leaning one arm on the piano, "do you remember playing for your father and me one evening and refusing us a certain piece? I have often wondered at the reason of that refusal. May I ask if you will play it for me now, darling?"

Dexie dropped her hands into her lap and lifted a flushed face to her husband's gaze.

"Dear Guy, I wish you had not asked me, for I do not think I can."

"What! not for me!" said he, laughing. "Not for your own husband! Come now, Dexie, have I found a cause to be jealous already?"

Dexie's arms were around his neck in a moment.

"Do not say such words, dearest, not even in jest; you do not know how it hurts me. Do you think I would have refused to play that piece for papa for a slight reason, Guy?"

"No, but tell me the reason, wifie. Come, no secrets from your hubby, mind," looking into her eyes with a teasing glance. "You know you told me you only played it when you were sentimentally inclined, and you must only be 'sentimentally inclined' in my direction now, so what is the secret?" kissing the lips so temptingly near.

"You are welcome to the secret, dearest, if I can put it into words, but not to the music, I fear, unless you will stand where I shall not see that you are watching me. There are some things hard to explain, and the effect of that piece of music upon me is one of them. Had I played it for papa, it would have grieved instead of pleased him, for it generally makes me cry; though why it has such power over me I do not quite understand. I have only played it before one person, and he understood it; so I did not mind."

"Now you have made me more curious than ever, little wife. You have played it for one person, and that person a gentleman, and yet you cannot play it for me. Now, Dexie, how could you break my heart by such a confession!" said he, laughing.

"It was only Lancy Gurney, so don't be foolish," leaning her head confidingly on his shoulder.

"Only Lancy Gurney! Worse and worse!" laughing gaily, as he held up her face to meet his gaze. "Don't tell me you are 'sentimentally inclined' in his direction yet, or I shall do something desperate."

"How can I tell you about it, if you laugh? I am afraid you will not understand it, if you look at it seriously!"

"Well, try me, anyway," and he drew her on to his knee.

"I fear it needs a musician's heart to understand it. I do not mean that the piece is so very difficult, but it has such strange, peculiar chords, which sound so exquisitely sweet, that it makes the tears come, no matter how hard I try to repress them. It affected Lancy the same way, so I did not mind playing it before him, but you see I could not give any reasonable explanation for my tears had I played it for you at papa's request."

"Say no more, little wife. I'll not tease you about it again; but let me confess a little sin. I listened to you one night through the open window when you were playing that piece, and I saw you in tears, too, but I did not rightly guess the cause of them."

"But I have not told you all yet! What will you say when I tell you that I gave Lancy Gurney one promise which I have not been able to break! Possibly, Lancy and I were 'sentimentally inclined' when he exacted it of me, but we agreed not to play that piece for other people, and I doubt if he finds that promise any easier to break than I do, for he would not care to let others see his emotion. I have often wondered what was in the heart of the composer, for it touches my heart like no other piece of music has power to do. I fear I have not made it very plain to you, dear, but I wish you understood it as Lancy did."

"Little wife, I believe you care for him yet," lifting her face and kissing her lips.

"Yes, of course I do, but not as I care for you. It is only the musical corner of my heart that he has touched, for apart from music I never give him a thought. My love for you is different; it seems to fill my life."

"You shall not find me exacting, dearest. Lancy is quite welcome to that musical corner, while I have such a heart full of love for my own. I would not have spoken about that music had I known what it was to you. I will remember after this," he added, smiling, "that it is 'sacred to the memory of—Lancy Gurney,' and I am quite willing to have it so," and he drew her close to his side.

"It is kind of you, dear, to respect this, my one bit of private property. I could never tell you what that music has been to me, for though it brings tears to my eyes it has the power to comfort. It seems to soothe and sympathize with me in my little troubles, and during that unhappy time after papa died I do not know what I should have done without the piano to talk to; it seemed the only bit of comfort left to me."

Guy raised the drooping head, and gazing tenderly into her tear-filled eyes said, gently:

"Dearest love! I do not believe that I half know you yet! There seem depths in your nature that I have never reached, and thoughts in your heart that I have never shared; they are so far above me. Trust me as far as you will, darling, and do not think that I wish you to break a promise that seems more sacred than sentimental," and he drew her to his heart again.

A few days later Guy brought home a thick letter to Dexie bearing the postmark of Halifax, and as Dexie read it a troubled look spread over her face, but she said nothing until the lamp had been lit and the curtains drawn; then she drew close to her husband's side, saying:

"Elsie has sent me very unpleasant news, dear."

"Then I wish she had not written; I do not like to see my little wife look sad over anything. May I know what it is, dear? but do not tell me if you had rather not, Dexie," and he drew her down to his knee.

"I do not think Elsie knew that her news would trouble me, for she seldom sees beneath the surface of things. My marriage has given her mother a great deal of trouble, and as she is the dearest little woman that I ever knew, I feel very sorry."

"For your marriage or the 'little woman'?"

"What a tease you are!" joining in his laugh. "But there is a ludicrous side to Elsie's story, too, though it is the unpleasant part of it that strikes me first. Do you remember the threat that Hugh McNeil made when we told him we were going to be married? Well, he has carried it out, and has married Nina Gordon, my double, that I told you about. Oh, it is a shame! a cruel shame! What a life she will lead with that passionate man, with no love between them to soften his feelings! Hugh could never listen to her patiently five minutes at a time; that is why he said he wished she was dumb! Oh, Guy! I feel so grieved. She is so sensitive at heart, for all her silliness, while Hugh is hasty and hot-tempered. How cruel of him to spoil her life, if he only married her for the chance resemblance to me, and it would be just like Hugh to tell her of it in one of his outbursts of temper. It has made me feel so unhappy that I could not finish my letter; I feel as if I were to blame in some way."

"Do not feel so troubled about it, my little wife; perhaps she will so improve under Hugh's tuition that she will be glad that her chance likeness was the means of making her his wife. I have often wondered, Dexie, how you refused him yourself. He seemed so persistent it is a wonder that he did not take you from me," drawing her closer to his side. "He seemed to have every quality that women most admire in a man."

"Well, I did admire him—at a distance—a long distance, you know," she laughingly answered, "but directly we were near enough to talk to each other, we were sure to disagree. What a charming married couple we would have made!" and both laughed at the mental picture. "Poor Nina! she has not the spirit to stand the first unkind word. I do hope Hugh will not be rough with her."

"I have a better opinion of Hugh McNeil than to think he will be rough with his own wife. From what I saw of him I rather admired him, and I hope he will be happy in his married life."

"I hope so, too, but—I fear for Nina. Let me read Elsie's letter to you, and you will understand the situation, for she is such an innocent little kitten that she has disclosed more than she is aware of":

"I cannot call you by your new name yet, but I hope you will not mind, for you will always be just 'Dexie' to me. I know that I ought to begin my letter with best wishes and congratulations, but I cannot do it honestly, so it would not be honor bright. Your marriage has made such a disturbance here that I do not know what to think, only that I am sure you are not to blame for it; so I wish you to know the story, even though Cora often says, 'I hope Dexie will never hear about this.'

"When I received the papers you sent me containing the announcement of your marriage, I, very naturally, read it out for the benefit of the rest in the room, never thinking I was doing anything out of the way; but that horrid Hugh McNeil was present, and before I had quite finished reading it he jumped to his feet and glared at me till I screamed with fright. Then he snatched the paper from me, and tore it in a thousand pieces, and stamped and stormed about the room till I felt sure he was crazy, then I ran from the room in terror. Then, as if that were not enough, Cora followed me out and said she had a good mind to box my ears for reading it out before Hugh, and yet I am quite sure that she likes you as much as ever. Well, we had an awful time with Hugh that night. He attempted to shoot himself, and mother cried and father scolded, and Lancy had to come and watch him till daylight. We were getting over our scare, and I was beginning to think it was a 'temporary fit of insanity,' as Cora said, when we were startled by another fit that is anything but 'temporary' this time, for Hugh asked papa to rent him the other half of the house where you lived, stating that he was going to be married immediately! Of course we wanted to know the name of the lady, and you can imagine our surprise and dismay when he said it was Nina Gordon. We all felt badly about it, for no one can imagine for a minute that he cares for her. As soon as he had rented the house he started off to Montreal, taking Mrs. Gordon and her daughter with him, and he returned about a fortnight ago, bringing Nina as his wife. Mrs. Gordon is to live in Montreal, and however Nina will manage without her mother at her elbow, is what puzzles everybody.

"I did not see Mrs. McNeil till a few days ago, for I was huffy at Hugh and would not be friendly with his wife; but when I did call I got such a surprise that for a few minutes I stood still in astonishment, for, if you will believe me, Dexie, they have got the house fixed up just as it used to look when you lived there—the same pattern of carpets and curtains, the pictures on the wall seem to be the very same, even to 'George Washington' that you used to make fun of. A piano occupies the same spot, and in the midst of it all there sat Nina with one of your pretty dresses on. Well, I suppose, the dress was her own, but I cannot understand how she happened to get it made so much like yours. Of course I made remarks, how could I help it when everything was so much like old times! but, in the most unexpected moment, in came Hugh, and the way he went on at me was something fearful! I am sure I never hinted that he had not a right to furnish his house to suit himself, but when I went home he followed me and had a long talk to mother about me. Nasty thing, that he is! and now I am forbidden to mention to anyone the astonishing resemblances that I see next door. They have sent me to my room for an hour because I looked surprised at a remarkable thing, so I thought I would sit down and tell you how badly I am treated, for I am snubbed at every turn, and no one likes to be continually snubbed.

"We like Lancy's wife very much, though she is different from what we expected. It is quite plain that she is very much in love with Lancy, so he ought to be pleased. I suppose it will not be 'the correct thing,' as Nina says, if I tell you why we felt so disappointed over his marriage, but we all expected his wife would be the dear girl we used to know and love. I often think that Lancy misses her, for his wife is not a bit musical; but everything is contrary here. There! I am called, and my hour is not yet up, so that's odd, too."

"That is only the first part of the letter, but it contains news enough for a dozen," said Dexie, as she laid the closely-written sheets on the table before her. "I am sure you see now what a trouble my marriage has been to dear Mrs. Gurney."

"Yet we imagined it was a very quiet affair, eh, Dexie?" regarding her with an amused smile: "However, do not take it so seriously, darling. Things have, no doubt, quieted down by now, and everyone will not see Hugh's wife and home with Elsie's eyes."

"But I have not finished the letter yet; wait till you hear the rest."

"There is a postscript, I suppose, and like every other woman's letter, it needs to be read first," was the smiling reply. "Well, let us hear the conclusion of the matter."

Taking up the remaining pages, Dexie read:

"I was called downstairs to see Mrs. McNeil, who was in the parlor and had asked to see me especially, and as my eyes rested upon her the word 'Dexie' sprang to my lips. She had on your garnet velvet suit, and looked as well in it as ever you did. I intended to treat her very coolly, for I had not forgiven Hugh, though I have been to church twice since he offended me; but she was so very friendly, and so anxious to make amends for Hugh's behavior, that my coolness melted away. She begged me to try and like her 'for Dexie's sake,' and as Hugh had sent regrets for his hasty words and wished me to run in as freely as I did in the old times, I feel as if I can repeat the responses in church this evening without feeling so terribly wicked over it. I fancy, from what Nina says, that Hugh is often quite stern and cold in his way of speaking to her, and she admitted that he has already made her cry. I feel very sorry for her, for I did not know when I began this letter why Hugh was so put out at your marriage, but I do now, and I think that since you would not have Lancy it is a good thing that you are safely married; but take care that Hugh does not run away with you some day. He is quite equal to it yet."

"There is no danger of that," said Guy, referring to the concluding passage. "I can read another story between the lines of Elsie's letter, and I think, dear, that Hugh's wife will not blame you if her marriage should not prove a happy one."

"I hope you are right, Guy; but how could I bear it if I thought you married me just because I resembled someone that you knew and loved, but could not marry," and she put her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes.

"But you know that my heart has been yours since I first saw you, so why need you borrow trouble, my little wife? There! lie still in my arms and rest content," drawing her close to his breast with a tenderness that gave a fresh assurance of his love.

"Do you know, Dexie, dear," he added presently, "something in that letter tells me that Hugh explained everything to Nina before he married her, and she could have refused him if she objected to the conditions. Hugh's money would overbalance many difficulties, and I have no doubt that Mrs. Gordon urged her daughter to accept him, with a full knowledge of his reasons for wishing to marry her. I feel sure that Nina is willing and anxious to please Hugh, and he may yet find much happiness in the society of your double. Few men would care to do such a thing, I admit, but if he finds any solace in his disappointment in surrounding himself with things that are dear to his memory and in making his wife a second Dexie, it is well."



POSTSCRIPT.

Having happily married my heroine and disposed of her lovers, it occurs to me that I have reached the place where story-writers usually make a big flourish, write "Finis," and then lay down the pen.

But the story of a person's life does not end with marriage, as some would have us think, for marriage generally brings out one's best qualities or develops the worst, and is sure to make or mar the life of every woman; consequently, this story is not yet finished. Yet why should I trouble myself to write out the remainder of it until I have discovered if the reading public are interested in Dexie's life so far as it has been already told? It may be that no one cares to follow her fortunes any further, or feels the least desire to know what the future has in store for her, to say nothing of the friends who have been associated with her; and as I have no wish to bore you, dear reader, gentle or otherwise, it rests with you to say if their married lives shall be laid bare or not.

I am aware that the marriage of my heroine lacked the eclat which usually attends events of that kind—in story books—but I fancy the average reader is well acquainted with all the details of an elaborate wedding, and must be surfeited with the various accounts of them by this time. However, if that is the style of wedding you prefer, I can give the names of several volumes which contain everything you can possibly desire in the way of description of gorgeous wedding costumes and all the rest of the paraphernalia that goes along with them, and you can read any account that suits you better, then take up my story further along. See?

Those that take objection to Dexie's home-life—particularly to that immediately preceding her marriage—are reminded that such lives do exist. When death visits a family, and removes the restraining head, the petty faults of the remaining inmates are apt to grow apace, unless the Angel of Death has touched their hearts with divine grace. Lacking this, the development of character has a downward tendency. It does not make pleasant reading, but I have not told an impossible tale. But who knows "how the other half lives?"

The question is—Do you care to know if Dexie has chosen her life as wisely as she might have done? Would her married life have been happier if she had married Lancy Gurney? The affection they had for each other was akin to love; there was a sympathy between them which those who have an intense love for music can alone understand, and which might have proved a source of happiness, even during a life-long existence. They might not have experienced the rapture of heartfelt love, but their lives might have been more peaceful and contented without it, for deep love often means keen sorrow.

Or would it have been better if she had accepted the love as well as the money which Hugh McNeil was so anxious to lay at her feet? She might have learned to care for him in time, and to have found pleasure in a life surrounded by all the joys that wealth can bestow. To have an abundance of worldly goods, and to be exempt from the petty cares and economies which a limited income necessitates, is a condition much to be desired, even where no love exists to soften the heart of husband and wife, and in this case Hugh McNeil could not be charged with possessing an unloving heart.

Dexie thinks she has made the wisest choice in accepting Guy Traverse and marrying for love, but she has yet to face the question—Is mutual love alone essential to secure a happy married life? or in the language of the world:

"Does it pay to marry for love alone?"

* * * * *

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* * * * *

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THE END