CLIVE WESTON'S WEDDING ANNIVERSARY. By Mrs. Leprohon...... AT THE GATE, a Poem. By M. A. Maitland.... PAGS 97 T12 THE UNSETTLED BOUNDARIES OF ONTARIO. By Charles Lindsey.......................114 GOOD-BYE, a Poem. By F. A. Dixon....... 134 DR. REINHARD. Translated from the German of KLEIMAR...... NOTES FROM OTTAWA. By J. G. Bourinot COLONEL GRAY ON CONFEDERATION. By a Bystander...... MATHEWS--The Comedian. (From Julian Young's Diary).... BOOK REVIEWS.... LITERARY NOTES........ .......156 TO CORRESPONDENTS. Intending Contributors are respectfully reminded that the space we can devote to original matter is by no means large. It will be necessary, therefore, to exercise a careful discretion in the selection of papers for publication. No article can be accepted unless it be of reasonable length, and possessed of some distinctive claim upon public attention. All communications in reference to the CANADIAN MONTHLY" should be addressed to the publishers, Messrs. ADAM, STEVENSON & Co., 10 King Street East, Toronto. Daily Advertiser Office. CHAPTER I. audible voice, the solemn words that united her life and destiny with those of another. T was in every sense of the word a bril- The sacred edifice was crowded with fair I eat, fair city and fashionably attired J that reclines at the foot of Mount Royal, had not for many months witnessed anything like it. Every embellishment that wealth could purchase had been procured every rule prescribed by taste or fashion followed-till the whole affair might have been safely pronounced a perfect success. Season and weather, often chary of their favours on similar occasions, were both propitious. The sunshine of a glorious October day bathed in golden radiance the new reaped field and meadow, the mountain with its glowing scarlet and yellow foliage, and the broad, sparkling St. Lawrence beyond. Brightly too it lit up the grinning gurgoyles and rich architectural ornaments of Christ Church Cathedral, where amid breathless silence the bride had just pronounced in a sweet, perfectly of bewitching young bride's maids distracted the heart and attention of the one masculine supporter or sympathizer to whom fashion now frequently restricts the bridegroom. The latter personage was tall, gentlemanly and intellectual looking. the chief object of attraction was of course the bride herself, who stood there fair, pale as a lily, stately as a young princess. She needed not the softening aid of glimmering pearls, misty clouds of tulle, nor of the flowing bridal veil, that invest with a certain charm even the plainest of Eve's daughters. No, Virginia Bentley was beautiful in form and feature, and rarely bride had borrowed less from art. But what excited remark even more than her statuesque loveliness was her wonderful self-possession. Knowing as she did that every eye in that Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada in the year 1872, by Adam, Stevenson & Co., in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture. arrived in Montreal two days previous, to join his regiment, and whilst strolling past the church had been induced to enter by the crowd already gathered in front of its portal. vast edifice was bent either in criticism, a topic. Captain Dacre, however, had only curiosity or admiration, on herself, her superb serenity never varied. No nervous tremour ran through her slight frame-no tinge of colour flushed the creamy white of her cheek, and when she at length walked slowly down the crowded aisle, she looked indeed a marvel of womanly stateliness and grace. As the bridal procession drove off, many and varied were the comments passed on the newly married couple. "Superb !" lisped a faultlessly attired exquisite, as he adjusted his eye-glass to obtain a fuller view of the departing carriages. "Never saw anything like it since Ristori." "Weston is a fortunate man!" sighed another fop whose dark eyes and hair, and slightly foreign accent, bespoke him a French Canadian. ""Tis very well for you two gentlemen, who were, as every body knows, thoroughly bewitched by her, to prate about Weston's luck," interrupted a third, "but I, for one, pity him from my heart. Why she will not let him call his soul his own!" "Tut, Stone, you are jealous, man!" interposed another. One act of Virginia Bentley's goes far to prove that her heart is not unworthy of her face. She delayed her marriage till she had attained her majority, that she might place her large fortune, unrestricted by any conditions, in her husband's hands, a thing strenuously opposed by her guardians.” "Ah! had I not reason to say Weston was a lucky man ?" reiterated a former speaker. "Who is she?" queried a fair haired, sleepy eyed man in military garb, who had been leaning listlessly against the church door during the preceding dialogue. "Our leading belle and beauty, and an heiress to boot," replied one of the group, secretly wondering how the last speaker could possibly be ignorant on so interesting "Ah, Dacre, how do you do?" cried a frank, ringing voice, and another military man joined the little knot. "You were just in time to catch a first and last glance of the most bewitching beauty and accomplished coquette I have ever met." "Rather young, I should think, to have fairly earned as yet the latter title," rejoined Dacre, slightly raising his eyebrows. "I do not know that. If you had been exposed to the artillery of her charms as we have been for some time past, you would have a higher opinion of their power." Again Captain Dacre raised his eyebrows, more sarcastically this time than before. "Beauty, belle, and heiress-how did you all permit so rare a prize to escape you?" "Because Miss Bentley, like most of such feminine paragons, has a will and mind of her own. Besides, she and her husband have been engaged for many months past." "But what qualities does this invincible bridegroom possess that he succeeded where so many failed ?" "Nothing out of the common. Honourable, moral, steady, and all that sort of thing; money-making, cleverish too, I be- 1 lieve." "Well, I do not exactly look on myself as a prophet, but I would venture to predict," and here the speaker, Colford Stone, smiled disagreeably, "that this time next year Clive Weston will not look as triumphant as he does to-day." After a few more words of idle talk the group separated, and the space in front of the church was left vacant. Meanwhile the wedding breakfast went gaily enough. There was a magnificent display of silver and rare china; all the delicacies of the season; everything that fashion could suggest. Through this second ordeal, with its wearisome felicitations, toasts, and laboured attempts at wit, the bride bore herself with the unruffled composure that had distinguished her in the church. At the proper time she withdrew, and in her dressing-room, amid the smiles and gay ministrations of her bride's maids, changed her Honiton lace and satin for the plain brown suit in which it was her will to travel. The first bride's maid, a pretty, rosy little creature, very youthful in appearance, though in reality a year or two older than the bride, was the one who placed the tiny hat with its long ostrich plume on the bride's head, and as she did so, she drew her to a deep bay window apart from their companions, and tenderly kissed her. "I can scarcely believe, my darling, that you are really married-that all is over. Do you feel very happy?" "A singular question, Letty! Have I not married the husband of my choice?" "True, very true. Well, let us hope for the best, but listen to a parting word from Letty Maberly, a friend who loves you dearly. I have known Clive Weston longer than you have, and warn you that he is one to hold the reins tightly if he once gets them into his grasp." A slight smile wreathed the new-made wife's delicate lip as she rejoined: "To carry out your simile, Letty, I am not afraid that Mr. Weston will seek either to drive or rein me in. In any case, I can take care of myself." Here an elderly lady, frail and shadowy in appearance, entered, and approaching the bride, tearfully said: "I must bid you goodbye, my love, here, for my heart is too full and sorrowful to do it before all those people in the drawing room." "Why should you be sorrowful, dear aunt ? You have known Clive a long time and like him well ?" will be very large and empty without you. And, oh, the trouble I have had with you, my darling, between one thing and another. Watching that you wore overshoes in wet weather, warm woollens in winter, and guarding you from fortune hunters at all seasons." "You have nobly fulfilled your charge, good Aunt Jane, and an onerous one it has been. Kiss me now, and say that you pardon all my obstinacy and waywardness during the fifteen years you have watched me with such patient care ?" Miss Jane Ponton burst into tears, and throwing her thin arms around the girl's neck whispered: "God bless you, my pet, you were never obstinate or wayward with me." "Poor Aunt Jane, because you always gave me my own way; but kiss me again!" When Mrs. Weston raised her proud young head there was a suspicious brightness in her large dark eyes, the first token of emotion she had given that day. Miss Ponton sank sobbing on a chair whilst the attendants and bride swept lightly down the broad stairs. The latter received farewells as calmly as she had done felicitations, and when Clive Weston sprang forward with joyous smile and eager face to assist her into the carriage, whispering at the same time some tender word, the slight smile she vouchsafed him was no warmer than the one she had just bestowed on a comparative stranger who had officiously moved the door an inch farther back for her egress. "Does she love him?" asked more than one of the guests as they noted that cold look and smile. "Does she love me?" asked Clive Weston of himself, as another word of tender inquiry on his part as to whether she felt fatigued, won nothing more for him than a careless: "Not in the least, I am used to crowds." And yet Virginia really loved her husband, though her indomitable pride prevented her "But I am losing you, my pet; the house showing it, and Clive Weston was scarcely |