In the Van; or, The Builders. John Price-Brown
the drawing-room a quarter of an hour later, Lieutenant Manning and his bride were there. A flash of astonishment swept over Sir George's face as he took in the situation. But it was only for a moment. Gravely, but not unkindly, he offered his greetings as Lady Menzies introduced Helen to him.
Her appearance was striking. With broad forehead, dark hair and lustrous eyes, she carried her two and twenty years very gracefully. She was not a bashful girl, just out of her teens, but a large-souled woman, who knew much of the experiences of life, and had made her choice, determined, by all that was holy, to be a help-meet for the man she had married. Though scarcely at ease, she looked up into Sir George's face with a frank smile as she received his greeting.
"I am glad to have the opportunity of meeting you," he said, looking steadily into her eyes. "Lieutenant Manning informed me that he was married; though I assure you it is a surprise to find that his wife is a relative of my old friend, the General."
"Harold did not tell you, then," she returned, with a gesture toward her husband.
"Unfortunately he did not; but perhaps it was my fault. I was so astonished that I fear I did not ask him. And how are you, Mr. Manning? I think you have been stealing a march on me."
"Is not marching a soldier's duty?" returned Harold, with a merry glance at his wife.
"Yes, but countermarching is a different thing." There was a twinkle in the gallant Colonel's eye, as he gravely shook his head, that was not discouraging.
In a veiled way, Sir George watched every movement that Helen made. Her self-control surprised him, knowing as she must that her own future as well as that of her husband were in his hands. Soon an opportunity for a personal talk presented itself.
Sir Charles had been adding to his collection of paintings, and was particularly proud of a Reynold's beauty that he had recently purchased, as well as a French landscape by Turner, who at that time was winning fame as an artist. While the others were looking intently at the delicate coloring and divine symmetry exhibited in the portrait by the Master, Helen had lingered by Turner's picture. It was one of his "Rivers of France," an illustration of the parting of lovers beneath stately trees on the banks of the Seine.
"That is a remarkable picture," said Sir George over her shoulder. "It is said to be an incident in the artist's own life. I did not know that Menzies had it, though I have seen it more than once in Turner's studio."
"I have heard of it," returned Helen, gravely. "He was, as he seems, passionately in love; pity it came to such a sad ending."
"It was her villainous stepmother's fault," said the Colonel. "She intercepted all his letters, and when the maiden believed herself forsaken, she took a woman's revenge, and made herself miserable by marrying another man."
"A miserable revenge it was," returned Helen warmly, "and one that few women would take advantage of."
"I am not so sure about that," was Sir George's grave response. "I am sorry to say I have known women do that very thing, though I acknowledge they must have been vastly foolish."
"If they had married before that long tour of his," said Helen, earnestly, "when they were both in love, the letters would not have been intercepted; and of course they would have been happy ever afterwards."
"Marriage is always a serious business," said Sir George, looking gravely into her eyes.
"Yes, I know it is." There was a little tremor in her voice this time. "But when one does it bravely and with eyes open, it is not too serious to be borne.
"And are you sure you can bear it, Mrs. Manning, whatever comes?" he asked with almost a touch of sternness in his voice.
"Yes—I believe I can."
"I too believe it since I have seen you. Still for your sake I am sorry it has happened. It would have been much better to have waited."
"For myself I believe I shall never regret it," said Helen, "whatever happens. It is only the future of my husband that I feel concerned about."
"I am glad to be able to relieve your mind on that score"—but there was sternness still in his voice. "Lieutenant Manning has always been a brave officer, and his future is certain."
"Thank you, Colonel, for the word. I know his record; and I assure you as a soldier's daughter, as well as a soldier's wife, I shall never stand in his way."
She stood very erect, but she dashed a tear away as the words flashed from her lips.
"Nobly said," was Sir George's comment as the General and the other ladies joined them. Harold had purposely wandered off to the far end of the room to inspect some ancient weapons, of which Sir Charles had a valuable collection. But he returned in time to hear their hostess ask her niece to sing.
"I cannot sing to-night as the linnets sing," she replied with a half sad, half mischievous glance at Harold, "but as my heart tells me."
"That is what we want, dearest," he whispered.
Seating herself at the piano, her fingers ran lightly over the keys. Then, in a rich contralto voice, she poured out Goethe's favorite, "To the Chosen One." There was the beauty of passion in every line of the first verse:
"Hand in hand! and lip to lip! Oh, be faithful, maiden dear! Fare-thee-well! thy lover's ship Past full many a rock must steer; But should he the haven see When the storm has ceased to break, And be happy, reft of thee— May the gods fierce vengeance take!"
There was exultation as she sang the second stanza:
"Boldly dared, is well-nigh won, Half my task is solved aright, Every star's to me a sun, Only cowards deem it night. Strode I idly by thy side Sorrow still would sadden me, But when seas our paths divide, Gladly toil I—toil for thee."
Then with all the tenderness of her impassioned soul she breathed out the last lines:
"Now the valley I perceive Where together we will go, And the streamlet watch each eve Gliding peacefully below. Oh, the poplars on yon spot! Oh, the beech trees in yon grove! And behind we'll build a cot Where to taste the joys of love."
"You are a brave girl," cried the Colonel as she finished the song, "and you well merit everything that the gods can give you. Lieutenant Manning should be proud to have you for his wife—whatever happens."
Saying which he turned and asked Lady Menzies to be his partner at a rubber of whist, for which Sir Charles and Lady Head were waiting. Hence, the four elderly people were soon interested in the game; while the bride and groom, ostensibly examining curios, were taxing their souls with a thousand questions relative to the future.
CHAPTER IV.
The European war was drawing to a close, or rather to an intense lull before the final conflict. Napoleon's arrogance in declining to yield a jot of German territory to Austria's demand, culminated eventually in his crushing defeat at Leipzic in the "Battle of the Nations." The British forces, too, were successful wherever they turned their arms, and at Vittoria, Wellington routed the legions of Joseph Bonaparte. Before the close of the year disasters were even more complete, and the remains of Napoleon's armies were driven out of Germany as well as Spain.
British veterans, inured to the discipline and fatigues of campaign life, were fast returning to their own shores; and it was from these that Sir George Head's companies were chosen. Already they had spent months in the rest of barrack life, and tired of inactivity, they welcomed the call to duty again.
There was something alluring to the soldier in the thought of service in America, whether engaged in active warfare or not. The Western continent was an El Dorado toward which all eyes were turned. It offered something different from the camp life of Europe, where prospective and actual battles were looked upon as the be-all and end-all of the soldier's career. Of emigration