FAIR AND FALSE 31
very indistinct idea of what ought to be done under the circumstances.
When the youthful bridegroom was made fully aware that he could not be permitted: to see his wife, nor to hear from her, or even to know where she was, he was seized with a fit of virtuous indignation.
Mr. and Mrs. Willmore deeply regretted their haste; not that they had any objection to Pansy in herself—but who wanted a son married at eighteen? They quite approved Miss Lingle’s course; and poor Clifford found that lady inexorable.
At this juncture uncle Fred returned from college, ‘for good and all,” and deeply sympathized with his injured nephew. The two had many confidential discussions, and got up various ingenious schemes for the discovery of Miss Pansy’s whereabouts. Their efforts, however, were constantly crowned with failure, until one day the old colored man was waylaid with a letter for Miss Pansy Berks, Southbrook Seminary, Southbrook, Conn.
Master Clifford was seized with a sudden desire for traveling, which was hailed by his bewildered parents as a favorable sign; and they immediately prepared the troublesome youth for departure, and generously provided him with no end of comforts and spending money.
Frederick Willmore was quite ready to accompany him—and the two started for the Lakes, but managed to do them up in an incredibly short time, and then switched off to the New England village.
Their plan was a very ingenious one, and their joint fondness for chemistry enabled them to carry it through without blundering. They were astonished at their own success in obtaining an entrance so easily into Miss Drummond’s stronghold; and the letter placed in Pansy’s hand, in that moment of darkness, was too moving an epistle to be disregarded.
It urged upon the young bride the propriety of transferring herself without delay from Miss Drummond’s protection to her husband's; and the writer strongly hinted at his determination, in case of her refusal, to catch another fever, and die in earnest.
Pansy was terribly frightened; but she loved Clifford, and she had an idea that, somehow, wives were expected to do as their husbands told them. She didn’t really know whether she was married or not; but Clifford and his uncle declared that she was—and it was certainly rather a queer thing to keep a married lady at boarding-school. It couldn’t be exactly wicked to run away with one’s own husband.
A very dainty, timid little note was lodged in Mr. Frederick Willmore’s hands while Pansy disentangled her veil; but the note expressed, though in somewhat obscure language, that “Barks was willin’;” and Clifford threw his hat in the air in a perfect gale of delight. This unusual style of doing things was quite exhilarating—ten times better than being married quietly and respectably; and the two arch-conspirators laid their heads together again on the grand subject of getting Pansy off.
This was all arranged before the next lecture; and the second billet directed the trembling damsel just what to do. Pansy did it; and found herself at midnight whirling rapidly off beside Clifford to the train that was to take her straight back to her astonished aunt and parents-in-law.
lt wasn’t just pleasant, at first, for the seniors to find that their nicely-laid little plan had been defeated; but Pansy cried, and Mr. Willmore, Senior, had her in his arms before he knew it, and Clifford and his mother came together by the force of mutual attraction—and the two headstrong children were kissed and forgiven.
Miss Drummond had almost resolved to receive no more pretty pupils, and quite resolved to admit no man upon the premises, come in what guise he would, when a very sweet, explanatory letter from the anathematized Miss Berks, mollified her ruffied feelings. She even went so far, in her address to the “young ladies,” as to say that, although she must condemn running-away of all kinds as generally prejudicial to the well-being of society, there might be extenuating circumstances in the case of a bride running away with her husband.
FAIR AND FALSE.
BY FANCY WILD.
BRIGHT as the diamonds are,
Is her eye of the softest blue;
She shines as a beaming star,
But her love and heart are untrue.
And her words, though soft as the skies
Of the fairest of Summer days,
Are only deception and lies,
That leads the fond heart astray.
