chapter xiii.

accidental and confidential.

1815.

mr. wrenford, the bookkeeper, whose tutoring days were now over, sat at his desk in the office, reading letters which had come by morning post addressed to the firm.

among the letters which he opened and read was one for mrs. p. wright, in care of p. wright, jr., for phil had chosen sarah for his bride, and bearie was preparing a home for nancy. it was from abbie, and lay bare to her bosom friend and sister-in-law the deep secrets of her heart.

she had been disappointed, and had resolved at length to give up fretting for one whom she had loved and lost. could he ever have loved her? why, if alive and able to communicate with her, had he remained as dead? could it be that he had laid down his life in defence of the colony with gallant brock at queenston? or at stony creek? but that would not account for his silence before the invasion. ever since she had parted with him at quebec his image had been enshrined in her heart, and now two others were seeking her hand in marriage. one, though unloved and distrusted by every member of the family, her father only excepted, had once again renewed his suit, and her heart turned to him because of his resemblance to his friend, her first love. the other was her brother's most intimate friend, who had assisted in releasing her from her perilous position the night of the sugar party. to say which she loved most was a problem. at times one seemed uppermost in her heart's affection, at times the other.

the letter closed with the following pathetic words: "would that an angel from heaven could fly down and whisper the name of the one most worthy of my deepest confidence and love. oft have i wondered, with swelling heart, if the omniscient thought me unworthy to enter the sacred sphere of wedded life. now, at last, there seems a ray of hope. let it be fully understood, dear sarah, that this is entré nous. do not whisper it even to phil."

wrenford read and re-read the precious missive, and hastily jotting down one or two sentences in his pocket-book, re-folded, re-sealed it and handed it to phil, who came in shortly afterwards.

the chief discovered by mere chance that evening that, for some unaccountable reason, his bookkeeper had debited the men with the amount of their wages, and credited them with the amount of their store account, and charged a man with an order for two shillings instead of two pounds, for which he reproved him severely.

wrenford looked dazed and bewildered, and replied with a deep sigh, after meditating for some time and shifting his attitude uneasily:

"ah, well, sir, you see, i am not altogether responsible for my actions, for, as a matter of fact, sir, i fear that my affections have run off with my wits, and i feel impelled to lay before you a very important request. for many months i have been exceedingly desirous of approaching your second daughter with a view to marriage, but hesitated to do so without consulting you, sir. i think the time has come when your daughter would consider the matter favorably, and with your consent i shall lose no time in laying the matter before her."

the chief tilted back his chair, thrust both hands into his pockets, and with a characteristic droop of his right eyelid said slowly:

"you have my full, free and hearty consent, and if you are successful i shall take you into the firm of p. wright & sons as a partner."

wrenford went to the wicket in answer to a call from one of the employees, and the chief left his seat and stood leaning against the high desk with its set of books, surveying his clerk from head to foot. the fastidiousness of his dress, the arrogance of his manner, his cultured mind, his shrewd business capacity, gave additional effect to his claim. he seemed a man worthy in every way of the favor he sought.

the chief's face was expressive of satisfaction in the highest degree, and could hardly have deceived the young englishman with reference to what was passing in his thoughts. they left the office together at twilight and strolled beyond the village by a pleasant walk to the white house. it was a clear, calm evening, with hardly a sound to break the stillness but a cow-bell tinkling in the distance, the hum of insects and the rushing water. as they entered a grove of stately trees they beheld an unexpected vision. it was abbie. her proud dark eyes were fixed upon the ground as though some passion or struggle were raging within. by her side was thomas brigham, who stood looking intently into her face, holding her hand meanwhile.

matters were evidently on the verge of coming to a climax when they heard the sound of approaching footsteps. abbie looked up suddenly, her face crimsoning to the roots of her hair as she observed the cold steel-gray eyes of mr. wrenford looking defiantly at thomas.

"i fear we are intruding," said the chief, coldly.

"not at all," replied abbie. "mr. brigham has just given me a conundrum to solve, and i was trying to think of an answer."

whereupon mr. wrenford said:

"by the way, miss wright, i have been seeking an opportunity all day of seeing you with reference to the new spinnet that your mother wished us to order from montreal. we had a letter from the firm this morning, and i was going up to see you about it."

almost unconsciously abbie was led to walk with mr. wrenford the remainder of the way, while thomas, biting his lips with rage, followed in solemn silence with the chief.

it was rather late, and the chief, following the example of the other members of the family, retired, leaving the rival suitors and abbie in the sitting-room.

a look of triumph came into the face of harold as she addressed her remarks mostly to him, and seemed oblivious of the presence of thomas. this, however, faded away when she passed a small basket of maple sugar to his rival. clouds and sunshine alternated in the faces of the jealous suitors, each of whom had made a solemn resolve to remain until after the other should withdraw. the embarrassment of the situation was relieved only when the great old-fashioned clock struck one, and abbie, with extended hand, advanced to mr. brigham and said:

"may i hope to have the pleasure of seeing you sometime to-morrow? and you, too, mr. wrenford," she added, as the two bowed themselves out of the door.

the progress of the suits of the rival claimants for abbie's affections had been watched with deep interest by the villagers; in fact, it was an open secret that betting had taken place among them on the chances of harold wrenford and thomas brigham.

abbie, who in every other matter held such decided opinions, was unable to come to a decision in this. at times, after long nights of reflection, she was disposed to accept harold; and then, again, after other wakeful nights, she felt her inclinations turning towards thomas.

but now things had come to a crisis. all night she tossed restlessly on her pillow, indecision and suspense depriving her of rest and peace, but as the first rays of dawn began to gild the eastern sky abbie had resolved that she would accept the one who would come first.

at an early hour mr. wrenford called, and after a prolonged interview, abbie declared to the family circle her engagement to the young englishman. the announcement was received in silence. tears trickled slowly down the mother's face, while the father's was radiant with satisfaction.

it was subsequently decided to postpone the marriage indefinitely, out of deference to the wishes of the mother and brothers.