Page:Everywoman's World, Volume 7, Number 7.djvu/28

PAGE 26 It’s no uncommon thing for the Saleslady to

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social code, her smouldering resentment did not prevent her being entirely amiable and gracious toward Emily Edgerton. After the dinner, she contrived that Emily should pay her duty call without her father; no hard matter. Mrs. Shane lived on one of the streets of trees; her house, though small, had an inviting porch covered with vines. Within, the rooms, all on one floor, had the charm of comfort and taste in daily use. The three rooms stretching across the front were practically in one, and gave the needed setting for a grand piano at one end, a carved oak sideboard at the other, and deep soft chairs everywhere There were flowers, great pink roses, nodding to their own reflection on the polished surface of the piano top. A darning basket, filled with silk stockings, beside them, in some curious way added the last touch necessary to express the mistress of the house. To Emily it looked elegantly Bohemian.

Mrs. Shane rallied the child, not too obliquely, about Tony Yorke, pumped dry of all relevant and irrelevant information and filled up the vacancy with the pleasantest of impressions, and produced Tony, finally, as a conjuror brings a rabbit out of a hat. Tony himself had not at all expected to see Emily, but he supported the encounter with equanimity. Her quick blush at his entrance was not unflattering: naturally, he could not know what Cora had said no more than five minutes before. But they had had the pleasantest of rides, as Emily admitted by merely mentioning what a woman remembers is a good index to what she likes. On the whole that sapient observation is no less true of men.

The half-hour following amused all three very much; Emily had all the pleasure of the jeune fille in being almost shocked; Cora and Tony all the amusement of talking their own language over the head of an unconscious third party. And Tony told himself that, after all, Emily hardly deserved to be called a "nursery chit." Some day she would be a thorough woman of the world, and the reading of her unfulfilled promise was in its way as interesting as would be the contemplation of her final perfection. Bread and butter she might be as yet, but it was "the best butter." Besides, Tony had rather a liking for bread and butter, not unusual in a man who has sampled other and at times too pungent fare. It sharpens the palate, for one thing. Yes, Emily—Miss Edgerton, of course, in his audible address of her—had all the points, physical and mental. He found himself surveying with pleasure the fine, almost imperceptible curve in the line from under her arm to her slender hip; a rare beauty, which only the connoisseur observes. She had a well-turned wrist and ankle, too. She was quite aware of his scrutiny, but held her colour; only surprise had brought that first blush. Quite naturally her truly innocent, girlishly immature mind set it down to honest admiration, perhaps dawning love. There is a stage of awakening consciousness, still clean of passion and therefore unashamed in the wildest fights of imagination when youth perceives in every hew acquaintance a probable lover. The earthy substance in which love must root is ignored; Emily was saved the embarrassment of reading anything grosser into Tony's gaze. In fact, it was not there; he could take an almost impersonal pleasure in the sight of a pretty woman, as a work of art. And he was not preoccupied with Hope.

"I'll take you to the Falls next time." he told Emily, laughing. "It's only fifty miles.'

"Sir, you go too far," answered Emily. "But—I rather should like to see them. Are they pretty? I believe I'll ask Daddy to take us up in the car. That's where he’s going to built the power plant, isn't it?"

"Very pretty," assented Tony, exchanging a glance with Cora Shane. "So he is going too, is he?"

"Why, I suppose so," said Emily carelessly. "He's always doing something; I'm sure I heard him speak of it. Shall we consider it settled—going there, I mean?"

"Both, if you like," said Tony. "You evidently have a good deal of influence with your father, young lady."

"He spoils me horribly," agreed Emily. "I always tell him he has no right to ruin my character just to gratify his own selfish pleasure in giving me things—but he does it just the same. He'll be waiting for me now; he will dine at six o'clock. Good-bye, Mrs. Shane." She gave her hand to Tony last, and her eyes therewith. They watched her graceful progress to the front gate, where Allen Kirby waited with the motor. She sprang into it, smiled and spoke to Allen, turned and waved her hand, and was borne out of sight, a little princess of democracy.

the rare grace of inspiring others to talk well, because they were interested in what others said, and showed a disposition to he pleased as well as to please.

Happy memories of these far-off days are still fresh in the minds of the younger members of that group, who are spared to witness Canada's Jubilee, and many an interesting reminiscence of that period is given to-day, as we indulge in the pleasure of looking back.

Lady Tilley has been a Prominent member of the National Council of Women since its institution, and those who knew here best realize how beautifully the Confession of Faith of that great organization, which aims at making home life sweet and helpful, and national life free from all the injustice and impurity, which aims at making the Golden Rule the common law of life, is illustrated in her daily life. She lives for the good that she can do, and many a sufferer in the Victoria Cottage Hospital at Fredericton, and in the Chipman Memorial Hospital at St. Stephen, New Brunswick which Lady Tilley was largely instrumental in founding—the latter being her lovely old home overlooking the historic St. Croix River—has felt it easier to endure suffering through her loving ministrations; and many a sailor in the Seamen's Mission, St. John, in which Lady Tilley has always taken a deep interest, has carried away with him to sea a warm affection for the Blessed Mother, as she was known amongst them, who revived his faith in woman and in Heaven.

A sailor who had enjoyed the advantages of good training in his early days, but who had lived in such a way that the sweet constraints of home and mother had lost their grip on him, told that Lady Tilley had, by her interest to him, reawakened the old home feeling in his hear, and led him to write his mother, something he had not done for years, and to purpose to live the kind of life which he had promised her to live when she had kissed him good-bye.

When a mere boy Sir Leonard Tilley became a total abstainer from all intoxicants, at a time when a step of that kind exposed a young man to the taunt of being a temperance crank. Throughout is whole life he adhered so religiously to his early purpose that when he was Lieutenant-Governor of New Brunswick he and Lady Tilley decided that no intoxicants should ever be found on the table at Government House. In that day this required almost as much moral courage as the Hebrew boy Daniel manifested in Babylon in refusing the King's wine, We are living to-day in a new era. The old order changeth, and the evil custom which has done so much to corrupt the world has given place to something far better, till wine has been banished even from the King's table.

It is said that an intellectual woman should not marry an intellectual man, for two clever people in one house cannot get on well together. Tennyson evidently did not believe in this saying, for he condemns the woman in "Locksley Hall" in most unmeasured terms for mating with a clown instead of marrying himself. For a perfect union there must be intellectual sympathy as well as love. In this respect, as in every other, Lady Tilley was an ideal wife. She was a stately flower of perfect wifehood, like the poet's "Isabel."

Sit Leonard Tilley passed way in 1896. greatly beloved by every one, a man who stood four-square to all the winds that blew. Since that time Lady Tilley has given herself up largely to benevolent work. At the beginning of the present war she entered whole-heartedly into promoting Red Cross activities, as in ministering in many ways to the comfort of the soldiers whom she calls "my boys."

Lady Macdonald and Lady Tilley are singularly akin in the breadth of their sympathies. Like that interesting character, Piper Tom in Myrtle Reed's "A Spinner in the Sun," they rich and poor—into great brotherhood. Many a one has felt the kind, beautiful spirit which lightens the burdens of life and makes the days brighter, which these great lovable women, whom Canada delights to honour, have lavished so freely on others.

A poor old man, whom Lady Macdonald had befriended, used to say that the weather was never so fine at Ottawa when the Lady of Earnscliffe was away from home.

I have often seen Lady Tilley in the quaint old town of St. Andrews-by-the-Sea, where she has a beautiful summer home, going about in the most friendly way amongst the people, sharing their joys and sorrows.

Canada has good reason to be proud of her women, never more so than to-day. No country under the sun can show a more unselfish type. The two Confederation brides of fifty years ago, who are privileged to rejoice in what Canada has done, and is doing, are an embodiment of the noble spirit which animates all true Canadian women, whether high or low, rich or poor.