The Railway Man and His Children - Mrs. Oliphant

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what Mrs. Fawcett had when Bertha was married? And you must give me a list of all the people you want to invite.”

      “The Fawcetts’ was a very humdrum affair,” said Rowland critically, “quite an ordinary business. We must do a great deal better than that. And as for the invitations, ask everybody—beginning with the Governor. He’ll be at Cumsalla about that time, and it will be a fine opportunity for him to visit the station in a semi-official way: and the General commanding, and the Head of the district, and——”

      “The Governor and the General!” Mrs. Stanhope gasped. She lay back in her chair in a half-fainting condition, yet with a keen conviction running through her mind like the flash of a gold thread, that to receive all these people in his own house, at a magnificent entertainment, would be such a chance as never could have been anticipated for Fred!

      “Carte blanche,” said Mr. Rowland, pressing in his enthusiasm her limp and hesitating hand.

      Evelyn Ferrars came in a moment after with the children. She gave a smile to her future husband, and a glance of surprise at her friend, who had not yet recovered that shock of emotion. “What are you plotting?” she said: but did not mean it, though it was so near their real occupation. As for Mr. Rowland he was equal to the occasion, his faculties being so stirred up and quickened by the emergency that he was as clear about it as if it had been a railway or a canal.

      “We are plotting against you,” he said, “and I think I have got Mrs. Stanhope to enter into my cause.”

      She looked from one to another with a little rising colour, divining what the subject would be. For once in her life Mrs. Stanhope was the dull one, not understanding her ally’s change of front. She thought he was about to betray the conspiracy into which he had just seduced her, and that Evelyn’s dislike and opposition would put an end to the delightful commotions of the marriage feast. “Oh,” she cried, “don’t tell her. She will never consent.”

      “She is so very reasonable that I hope she will consent,” said Rowland. “My dear, it is just this, that there is no reason in the world why we should wait. I would like to be married as soon as the arrangements can be made. I think you won’t refuse to see all the arguments in favour of this: and that there are very few against it.”

      Evelyn grew red and then grew pale, and finally with a little catch in her breath asked how long that would be?

      “About three weeks,” said Rowland, holding her hand and patting it as if to soothe a child.

      Her limbs trembled a little under her, and she sat down in the nearest chair. “It is a little sudden,” she said.

      “My dear——let’s get it over,” said Rowland, his excitement showing through his usual sobriety like a face through a veil. “It’s a great change, but it is the first that is the worst. You and I, as soon as we’re together, will settle down into each other’s ways, and be very happy. I know I shall, and some of it’ll rub off upon you. There’s nothing in the world you can wish for that I shan’t be ready to do. It is only the first step that will be a trouble. Let’s get it over,” he cried, with a quiver in his voice.

      This is not the usual way in which a man speaks to his bride of their marriage, but it is a very true way if people would be more sincere. And especially in the circumstances in which he and she stood, not young either of them, and taking fully into consideration all the mingled motives that go to make a satisfactory union of two lives. Mrs. Stanhope, to whom the conventional was everything, listened in horror, wondering how Evelyn would take this; but Evelyn took it very well, agreeing in it, and seeing the good sense of what her betrothed said. It was the first step that would be the worst. After that habit would come in and make them natural to each other. And to get over that first step, and to settle down quietly to the mutual companionship in which she too felt there was every prospect of satisfaction and content, would no doubt be a good thing. It was somewhat overwhelming to look forward to such a tremendous change so soon. But she agreed silently that there was no reason for delay, and that all he said was perfectly reasonable. “I cannot say anything against it,” she said quietly. “I have no doubt you are right. It seems a little sudden. I could have wished a little more time.”

      “To think of it?” he said quietly. “Yes, my dear, if you had not made up your mind, that would be quite reasonable. But you have quite made up your mind.”

      “Yes,” she said, “I have made up my mind.”

      “Then thinking of it is no longer of any use—because it is in reality done, and there’s no way out of it. So the best thing is to carry the plan into execution, and think no more. Come,” said Rowland with an air of great complaisance, “I’ll yield a little I’ll say a month—that will leave quite time enough for everything,” he said, with a glance at Mrs. Stanhope to which she replied with a slight, scarcely perceptible nod of the head. And then it was all arranged, without difficulty and without any knowledge on Miss Ferrars’ part of the negotiations that had gone on before. Evelyn was much overwhelmed by the present her friend insisted upon making her, of her wedding dress, which turned out to be of the richest satin, and trimmed with the most beautiful lace, to the consternation of the bride, who remonstrated strongly. “How could you think of spending so much money? it is robbing the children—and it is far too grand for me.” “My dear,” said Mrs. Stanhope, the little hypocrite, “if you think how much you have done for the children, and saved me loads of money! I can afford that and more too out of what I have saved through you.” Evelyn was confounded by this generosity, both of gift and speech; but as the dress did not arrive until the day before the ceremony, there was not much time to think about it, and her mind was naturally full of many subjects more important. The same cause kept her even from remarking the extraordinary fuss in the station on the wedding day—the flags flying, the carpets that were put down for the bride’s procession, the decorations of the chapel. She scarcely saw them indeed, her mind being otherwise taken up. And when the Governor was brought up to her to be introduced, and the General followed him, both with an air of being royal princes at the least, amid the obsequious court of officers, Evelyn was easily persuaded that it was because they had chosen this day to make their inspection, and that their presence at the station was quite natural. “How fortunate for you that they are both here together,” she said to Mrs. Stanhope. “Now surely Fred will get what you want so much for him.” “Oh, he will get it, he will get it!” Mrs. Stanhope cried, hysterically. “Thanks to you, you darling, thanks to you!” “What have I to do with it?” said Evelyn. She was now Mrs. Rowland, and her mind was full of many things. It was a nuisance to have so many people about, all drawn, she supposed, in the train of the great men. As for the great men themselves, they were, of course, like any other gentlemen to Evelyn: they did not excite her by their greatness. She was a little surprised by all the splendour, the sumptuous table, the crowd of people; but took it for granted that one half at least was accidental, and that though it was quite unappropriate to an occasion so serious as a middle-aged marriage, it might be good for Fred Stanhope, who had so long been after an appointment, which always eluded his grasp.

      Thus the bride accepted, without knowing it, the extraordinary honours that were done her, while all the station stood amazed by the number and greatness of the guests. The Lieutenant-Governor came without a murmur to compliment the great engineer. He would not have done it for Fred Stanhope, who was Brevet-Major, and thought himself a much greater man than Rowland. Neither would the General commanding have come to Fred unless he had known him in private, or had some special interest in him. But they all collected to the wedding of the man who had made the railroads and ditches—a proof, the military people thought, how abominably they were neglected by Government, though it could not sustain itself without them, not for a day! They were, however, all of them deeply impressed by the greatness that had come upon Miss Ferrars, whom they had pitied and patronised, or even snubbed during her humiliation—by the splendour of her dress, and of the breakfast, and of the bridegroom’s presents to her—and still more, by the manner in which she received the congratulations of the big wigs without the least excitement, as if she had been all her life in the habit of entertaining the great ones of the earth. “Give you my word,” said the little subaltern Bremner, who was an ugly little

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