Wrecked but not Ruined, Robert Michael Ballantyne [book series for 10 year olds txt] 📗

cratur."

"Preehaps mes own veddin' vill foller ver' quick," said Le Rue, with a sly glance at Elise, as he assisted Rooney to suspend the big pot on its appropriate hook.

"Troth then. I can't compliment the taste o' the poor girl as takes 'ee," replied Rooney, with a still slyer glance at Elise.

The girl referred to remarked that no girl in her senses would accept either of them as a gift, and went off tossing her head.

Just then a cheer was heard in the lobby, and Elise, Le Rue, and Rooney rushed out in time to see Flora McLeod like an April day--all smiles and tears--handed into a gig; she was much dishevelled by reason of the various huggings she had undergone from sundry bridesmaids and sympathetic female friends, chief among whom was a certain Mrs Crowder, who in virtue of her affection for the McLeod family, her age, and her deafness, had constituted herself a compound of mother and grandmamma to Flora. The gig was fitted to hold only two. When Flora was seated, Reginald Redding--also somewhat dishevelled owing to the hearty, not to say violent, congratulations of his male friends--jumped in, seized the reins and cracked his whip. The horse being a young and spirited animal, performed a series of demivolts which caused all the ladies to scream, threw the gig into convulsions, and old Mrs Crowder almost into fits. Thereafter it shot away like an arrow, amid ringing cheers and a shower of old slippers.

This was the last of Redding and Flora for that day, but it was by no means the last of the party. In those regions at that time (whatever they may do in those regions nowadays) wedding parties were peculiarly festive scenes, in which dancing was one of the means by which not only the young but the middle-aged were wont to let off superabundant steam, and a violin more or less cracked and vigorously played was the instrument which created inspiration. It would take a volume to tell of all that was said and done on that great and memorable occasion--how the plump little Miss Gambarts fluttered about like erratic flowers, or like captivating comets drawing a long tail of the Partridge Bay young men after them; how, as the evening wore on, all social distinctions were swept away and the servants were invited to exchange duty in the kitchen for dancing in the hall; how Le Rue danced so often with Elise and made his admiration of her so obvious that she became quite ashamed of him and cast him off in favour of any one else who asked her; how Jonas Bellew was prevailed on to ask Mrs Crowder to dance a Scotch reel with him, which she not only agreed to do but did to the delight of Jonas and the admiration of all the company; how Mister Rooney volunteered to dance the sailor's hornpipe, and acquitted himself so well, despite the inability of the violinist to play the proper tune, that his performance was greeted with rapturous applause; how the floor at last began to show symptoms of giving way, and how their only musician did finally give way, from sheer exhaustion, and thus brought matters to an abrupt close.

But all this, and a great deal more that we have not told, was as nothing compared to the "feast of reason and the flow of soul," that occurred at the supper, a meal which had been expressly reserved as a last resource when the violinist should break down. Another volume, at least, would be required to record it all.

There was food of course in profusion, and there was also, which is not always so common, splendid sauce in the form of appetite. There were also songs and toasts; and speeches which would have done credit to the halls of more civilised lands, in all of which the performers exhibited every phase of human nature, from the sublime to the ridiculous.

At this stage of the proceedings McLeod senior conducted himself with that manly straightforward vigour which had characterised him during the earlier part of the festivities, though he faltered a little and almost broke down when, in a speech, he referred to Flora as a bright sunbeam whom God in His love had permitted to shine upon his path for many years, who in prosperity had doubled his joys, and who in adversity had taught him that the Hearer and Answerer of prayer not only can, but does bring good out of evil, of which fact he was a living instance that day, for it was the loss of his goods by shipwreck which had enabled him, at a critical moment in his affairs, to make a fresh start in life, that had now placed him on the road to prosperity, so that "_Wrecked but not Ruined_" he thought, might be appropriately adopted as his family motto. It was this wreck also which had, in a great measure, brought him into intimate acquaintance with the man who had saved his daughter's life, as well as his own (cheers), and who had that day carried off a prize (renewed cheers), a jewel (enthusiastic cheers, in which the ladies attempted to transcend the gentlemen), he repeated, a prize, the true value of which was fully known only to himself.

Here the remainder of the speech--of which a few emphasised words, such as blessings, health, prosperity, etcetera, were heard--was lost in a burst of continuous cheering, which suddenly terminated in an uproarious shout of laughter when Le Rue accidentally knocked the neck off a bottle of beer, whose contents spouted directly and violently into his face!

The touch of feeling displayed in McLeod's speech filled little Mr Gambart with an irresistible desire to start to his legs and "claim his rights." He regarded himself, in connection with Mrs Gambart, he said, with a winning smile at his fair partner, as the author and authoress (humanly speaking of course) of the whole affair, by which he meant the affair that had just come off so auspiciously. He had seen, and Mrs Gambart had seen, from the very first, that Mr Redding was deeply in love with Flora McLeod (as how could he be otherwise), that he, Mr Gambart, (including Mrs Gambart), foresaw that in selling Loch Dhu to Mr Redding he was virtually sending it back to the McLeod family; that unless he had concealed the name of the owners at first he could not have effected the sale, for Mr Redding at that time thought the McLeods were--were--. Here an awful frown from Mrs Gambart, intimating that he (Gambart) was touching on subjects which he had no right to make public, threw him into confusion, out of which condition he delivered himself, amidst some laughter and much applause, by a bold and irrelevant continuation of the subject, to the effect that, knowing all that and a great deal more besides, he (including Mrs Gambart) had not only effected a sale which, he might say, was the main-sail that had caught the breezes of prosperity by which the craft of the McLeods, so to speak, had been blown so happily that day into the Partridge Bay haven of felicity (tremendous cheering, during which Gambart wiped his bald head and flushed face, and collected himself). Moreover, he continued, it was he who, against McLeod's will, had bought Barker's Mill (hear hear! from Bob Smart, who thought he was quoting poetry), and although, of course, he had not known that the goods in the _Betsy_ were insured (at this point another frown pulled him up and made him reckless), he nevertheless would stoutly hold against any man (cheers) or woman (cheers and laughter), that he, including Mrs Gambart, had had a finger in the pie, which, after simmering for a considerable time (the pie, not the finger) in the oven of--of (cheers) ah! had that night been done (brown, from Bob Smart) _to a turn_ (severely), and been dished up in such splendid style that a more auspicious climax could--could--

The remainder was drowned in vociferous cheering, in which Mr Gambart himself joined, shook hands with the guests on each side of him, sat down, and blew his nose.

It was at this point that Bob Smart, overcome by a gush of feeling, burst into a song, the burden of which was that the light of former days being faded, their glories past and shaded, and the joys of other days being too bright to last, it was not worth while doing more than making a simple statement of these facts without expressing a decided opinion either one way or another in regard to them.

As he sang this rather pretty song in the voice of a cracked tea-kettle, a thrill of delight ran through the company when deaf Mrs Crowder, being ignorant of what was going on, suddenly said that as there seemed to be a pause in the flow of soul, she, although a woman, would venture to express a sentiment, if not to propose a toast. This was of course received with a shout of joy, which effectually quenched Mr Smart. In a sweet tremulous little voice the old lady said, "let us wish, with all our hearts, that health, happiness, charity, and truth may dwell as long as it shall stand, under the roof-tree of Loch Dhu!"

Of course this called McLeod to his legs again, after which there were more speeches and more songs--both grave and gay--until "nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep," began gently to tickle the guests, reminding them that felicity is not less enhanced by occasions of exuberant mirth than by periods of tranquil repose.

What more can we say, good reader, than that old Mrs Crowder's wish was fulfilled to the letter, for a large family, trained by Redding and Flora to respect the laws of God and love the name of Jesus, caused the roof-tree of Loch Dhu to ring full many a year thereafter with joyous tones, that were the direct result of "health, happiness, charity, and truth."

McLeod senior dwelt hard by, and was made glad, as well as thoughtful, by the sight. Ian and Kenneth made a comfortable livelihood out of the saw-mill at Jenkins Creek, which ultimately became a populous settlement, whither the young Reddings went annually in summer to enjoy themselves, in which enjoyment they were greatly aided by Jonas Bellew the trapper. Roderick was equally prosperous with Barker's Mill at Partridge Bay. Rooney continued to the end of his days in the service of his old master, while Le Rue and Elise, a happy couple, became respectively butler and cook at Loch Dhu, over the door of which establishment Redding had engraved his father-in-law's favourite motto--"Wrecked but not Ruined."

THE END.
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