Crimson Roses (30 page)

Lyman, as he watched the brother, caught little gleams of resemblance to his wife in the rougher, heartier features, little tricks of speech and mannerisms that were pleasant to recognize, and he saw at once that the brother was no blockhead. He might not care for music and art and philosophy, but he would make a sharp businessman and was a good talker. His arguments in politics were well put and the points sharp and original. He might be of far coarser mold than his fair and delicate sister, but there was nothing about him to be ashamed of, and the new brother-in-law was enjoying himself immensely.

Finally, Lyman and Tom went out to look over the farm while Marion and Jennie cleared off the table, and there was no more talk about rich and poor, for there was a final truce between and Jennie and Marion.

They rode away the next morning into a sunlit world, having left happy hearts and pleasant feelings behind them, and really sorry that it was not possible to have planned to accept the urgent invitations of both host and hostess to remain a few days longer. How they would have shouted with merriment if they could have known how Jennie feared they were coming to live on them, and of her plans to put her new brother-in-law to work on the farm to earn his board!

But, as they waved a good-bye to the group on the side porch and turned into the broad highway with the prospect of a glorious spring day before them, and just their two selves in all the great, beautiful world, Lyman felt that now indeed his bride belonged to him entirely. Until he had seen her people he knew she felt ill at ease with him whenever she thought of the wide difference in their birth. But he had somehow managed to make it plain to her that all the world is kin and that he felt no such gulf as she had feared. He could see that her heart was light from the burden lifted, and now she felt that she might rest in his love and be happy.

Also there was a feeling of exhilaration upon them both, for they had won a victory over Jennie and made her their devoted admirer. It gave Marion a great sense of peace to know this. Jennie might not be any pleasanter for daily living than before, when the newness wore off, but she did not have to live with her; and it was good to know that Jennie bore no grudges. Marion enjoyed thinking of the pleasant surprises she would send them all, and so make up to Jennie for any imagined wrongs of the past. So Marion sat beside her husband, happy and smiling, as they flew along the great, wide road and drew in the morning breath of spring sweetness and delighted in the glance of each other’s eyes.

At New York they found the chauffeur and a lot of letters.

Lyman had taken care to have announcement cards sent to all their friends before they left home, and now the congratulations were pouring down upon them. Marion gasped as she opened one exquisitely perfumed epistle written in exceedingly tall handwriting on the latest style of paper with a gold-embossed monogram.

You dear little Marion
(it began familiarly)
:

How you have surprised us all! Though I’ll tell you a secret. I suspected long ago what was going on and have been perfectly delighted over the prospect; but I didn’t tell a soul. Wasn’t I good?

I am charmed that you are to enter our circle and be one of us. It is a real pleasure to think of you as mistress of that lovely home. I shall be so pleased to be “near neighbors” and run in often. I have always admired you greatly and wanted to see more of you, and have often grieved over the separation that circumstances made necessary as we grew older. And now you are coming right into our set, and there will be nothing to hinder our being bosom friends. Your husband and I have always been very intimate, and so I have a double claim upon you, you see; and I do hope my note will be the first you receive to tell you how glad we all are to have you among us. I intend to give a large dinner for you just as soon as you are settled at home and ready for your social duties
.

It is not necessary for me to tell you what a wonderful husband you have married, for you probably know that. Tell him for me that he is to be congratulated upon the bride he has chosen
.

Yours always lovingly,
Isabel Cresson

The gift that came with the note was a paperweight of green jade in the form of an exquisitely carved little idol with a countenance like a foreign devil.

“Oh!” gasped Marion, helplessly letting the note slip from her fingers to the floor. “Oh!”

“What is the matter, dear?” asked Lyman, turning from a letter from a business friend.

“Oh!” said Marion. “I am ashamed to have misjudged her so. She is very kind, I’m sure; but—but—I don’t think I shall ever really quite enjoy her; she’s such an awful hypocrite. I shall always think of her in that gold dress!”

Lyman picked up the letter and read it with growing amusement.

“Don’t worry, dear,” he said, laughing. “This is just what I’ve expected, and you’ve yet to learn that this young woman can be several very different people. It suits her just now to pose as my intimate friend—and yours. But no one is thereby deceived. Everyone of our circle knows that she has always been my special aversion. There are reasons why she will never be likely to say any disagreeable things to you, and you need not fear her; but, as for making her your intimate friend, that will never be necessary. Be your own sweet self, gracious and simple to her; but never let her deceive you into thinking you are wrong in your own intuition about her. She has no right to claim even toleration from you. She is a cruel, selfish, rotten-hearted woman. She is simply showing you that she is robbed of her power to hurt you and prefers to make the best of it and be as intimate as you will allow.”

Two days after, they returned; and Marion entered the great, handsome house and looked about upon the beauty and luxury that were henceforth to be hers. Everywhere, in all the rooms, there were roses to welcome her—great crimson roses, glowing in masses, in crystal bowls and jardinières, and costly vases. But on her dressing table in the little white boudoir he had prepared for her, standing in a clear glass vase so that its long green stem was clearly seen, there nodded and glowed a single crimson bud.

G
RACE
L
IVINGSTON
H
ILL
(1865–1947) is known as the pioneer of Christian romance. Grace wrote more than a hundred faith-inspired books during her lifetime. When her first husband died, leaving her with two daughters to raise, writing became a way to make a living, but she always recognized storytelling as a way to share her faith in God. She has touched countless lives through the years and continues to touch lives today. Her books feature moving stories, delightful characters, and love in its purest form.

Love Endures

Grace Livingston Hill Classics

Available in 2012

The Beloved Stranger
The Prodigal Girl
A New Name
Re-Creations
Tomorrow About This Time
Crimson Roses
Blue Ruin
Coming Through the Rye
The Christmas Bride
Ariel Custer
Not Under the Law
Job’s Niece