The Blythes Are Quoted (45 page)

Across the sunlit sea

The singing birds return,

Those travellers far and free

To many an ancient bourne.

The winds are very gay

O’er every gusty hill,

Glad vagabonds of May

To frolic where they will.

Sun-odours wild and sweet

As some old memory

Fill reedy hollows, meet

For lurking alchemy.

The morns are fair and white

Unto the crystal noon,

Magic is spun at night

Beneath an ivory moon.

The world is full of songs ...

Like hearts of voiceless birds ...

To us the joy belongs

Of giving to them words.

To us the joy of May,

Of every lyric thing ...

What though our heads are grey?

No one is old in spring.

No one is old and sad,

Immortal youth is here ...

We’ll just be mad and glad

With the mad, glad young year!

Walter Blythe

SUSAN BAKER
:- “I used to think no one could be old and sad in spring but I have learned different.”

RILLA FORD
(who is home for a visit):
- “Walter wrote that in Rainbow Valley, too. Oh, it brings it all back to me. Mother ... mother!”

ANNE
:- “Rilla darling, Walter has gone to eternal spring. We all felt as he did once. And perhaps he was right. The years are still mad and glad in May ... it is only we who have changed.”

The old church at Glen St. Mary was crowded. Somehow this particular wedding seemed unusual. It was not often there was a church wedding in Glen St. Mary and still less often one of the summer colony. Somebody from Charlottetown was playing the wedding march very faintly and softly and the two families most concerned stood in small clusters or alone, the collective reverberence of their words rising and falling in soft waves of sound.

A bored reporter from the
Daily Enterprise
was covering the function.

“The old church at Glen St. Mary was thronged with guests this afternoon for the marriage of Evelyn, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. James March, who are spending their summer in Glen St. Mary, to Dr. D’Arcy Phillips, professor of biology at McGill and son of Mrs. F.W. Phillips and the late Frederick Phillips of Mowbray Narrows.

“The church was beautifully decorated with white mums by the teenage girls’ class of Glen St. Mary and the lovely bride was given away by her father. She wore ivory satin, fashioned with a mid-Victorian line and a halo of seed pearls held in place her wedding veil of rare old lace. It was whispered that the rather faded bow of blue ribbon hidden under the pearls was worn by Mrs. Gilbert Blythe at her own wedding. ‘Something borrowed and something blue,’ you know.

“Miss Marnie March was maid of honour for her sister and the three bridesmaids, Miss Rhea Bailey, Miss Diana Blythe and Miss Janet Small, wore period gowns of silver cloth and picture hats of periwinkle blue with bouquets of blue iris, etc., etc., etc.

“The reception afterwards was held at Merestead, the beautiful new summer home of the Marches at Glen St. Mary, where glowing roses made an attractive decoration for the glowing rooms. The bride’s table was centred with the handsome wedding cake made by Mary Hamilton, who has been with the Marches thirty years as cook, nurse, and beloved member of the household.

“Mrs. March received her guests in a modish gown of grey, with a slight train, smart hat of black straw, and corsage of deep purple Princess violets.

“Mrs. Frederick Phillips was in blue chiffon, matching hat, and corsage of yellow rosebuds.

“Later the bride and groom left to spend their honeymoon at the groom’s camp, Juniper Island, Muskoka, Ontario. The bride’s going-away ensemble etc., etc., etc.

“Among the guests were Mrs. Helen Bailey, Miss Prue Davis, Mrs. Barbara Morse, Mr. Douglas March (great-uncle of the bride, a hearty octogenarian of Mowbray Narrows), Mrs. Dr. Blythe, etc.”

Aunt Helen Bailey, sister of the bride’s father and the mother of three unwedded and unbespoken daughters, among them one of the bridesmaids, thinking,

“So Amy has really got Evelyn off her hands at last. What a relief it must be to her! A girl like Evelyn ... past her first youth ... with one of those skins that age early ... not like Mrs. Blythe’s. Will that woman
ever
grow old! ... and that affair with Elmer Owen ... it’s really quite a triumph to get her married, even to a poor young professor like D’Arcy Phillips. I can remember him running barefoot round Glen St. Mary and cutting up didoes with the Ingleside boys.

“Amy was simply heartbroken when the engagement to Elmer was broken off. She tried to brazen it off but everyone knew. Of course Evelyn never cared a scrap for him ... it was his money she was after. That girl hasn’t a particle of heart ... she couldn’t love anyone.

“I wonder what really went wrong between her and Elmer ... nobody knows, though that silly Mrs. Blythe looks so wise when it is spoken of. Of course
his
parents never approved of it, but at one time he seemed quite taken with her. Amy certainly thought she had him trussed and skewered. How she used to purr over it! Such a ring! It must almost have killed Evelyn to give it back. It will be a long time before D’Arcy Phillips will be able to give her a square emerald.

“It was really indelicate the way she snapped D’Arcy up the moment Elmer threw her over. But it’s easy enough to get a man if you don’t care what you do. My poor girls haven’t the audacity necessary for today. They’re sweet and well-bred and womanly, but that doesn’t count any longer. It’s all very well for Dr. Blythe to say girls are the same in all ages. A lot he knows! No, nowadays you’ve got to stalk your man.

“Why don’t they come? The seats in these country churches are always so hard.
Look
at that mosquito on Morton Gray’s fat jowl! Doesn’t the man feel it? No, he’s probably too thick-skinned to feel anything. I wish I could give it a slap ... my nerves are getting jumpy.

“What a lot of guests! And all the yokels from Glen St. Mary and Mowbray Narrows. I suppose a fashionable wedding is a treat to them. Prue Davis has a new dress and is trying to look as if it were an ordinary occasion. Poor Prue! Barbara Morse is making nasty remarks about everyone. I know by the look on her face. Ah, Mrs. Blythe has just snubbed her. I can tell by the look on
her
face. But it won’t cure Barbara. The ruling passion! She’d gossip at a funeral, so why not at a fashionable wedding, where everyone knows the bride is taking the groom as a consolation prize and he is taking her heaven knows why ... probably because she just went after him. It’s all nonsense of Mrs. Blythe to say they have always been in love. Everybody knows they fought like cat and dog all their lives. Evelyn has an indomitable will under all that surface sugar ... just like Mrs. Blythe. I wonder if Dr. Blythe is as happy as he pretends to be. No man could be.

“Is that really Jim’s old Uncle Douglas there? I suppose they can have all their country cousins since the groom is only D’Arcy and the wedding in Glen St. Mary. But if it had been Elmer, at some fashionable church in town, they’d have been kept in the background. Uncle Douglas is evidently enjoying himself. A wedding feast is a wedding feast no matter how it comes about. He’ll have something to talk about for years.
What
is Rose Osgood wearing? She must simply have put her hand in the family ragbag and pulled out the first thing she grabbed. I wonder how Mrs. Blythe, living in Glen St. Mary, always contrives to look so up-to-date. Well, I suppose her daughters ...

“There goes Wagner at last, thank goodness. Here they come. Four ushers ... four bridesmaids ... two flower girls and a page. Humph! Well, I hope everything’s paid for. Those white mums must have cost Jim a small fortune. I don’t believe for a moment they came from the Ingleside garden. How could anyone grow mums like that in a little country place like Glen St. Mary? Where Jim finds the money I’m sure I can’t imagine.

“Evelyn’s looking well, but she shouldn’t have her dress cut that way ... it gives her sway back away ... lordosis is the name nowadays, I believe ... Evelyn is positively triumphant ... no shrinking violet about
her
. I remember the day Amy gave the coming-out tea for her debutante daughter. And was she awkward! But of course seven seasons should give anyone poise.

“D’Arcy isn’t much to look at ... his face is too long ... but poor Rhea looks quite as well as the other bridesmaids. That shade of blue is so trying ... probably Evelyn selected it for that reason. Marnie looks like a gypsy as usual ... only gypsies aren’t quite so plump, are they? Amy will find it even harder to get her settled than Evelyn. Diana Blythe looks rather well. There really is something about those Blythe girls ... though I’d never admit it to their mother.

“‘I will’ ... oh, my dear, you needn’t
shout
it! Everyone knows you will only too willingly. Even in Glen St. Mary they all know that D’Arcy was your last chance. It’s odd how things get around! Of course the Blythes have lots of friends in Montreal and Toronto. And Mrs. Blythe may have the reputation of not being a gossip ... but she contrives to get things told ... clever woman. Well, as for Evelyn, a professor’s salary is better than an old maid’s pension, no doubt. They’re off to the vestry. Mrs. D’Arcy Phillips! You can see it sticking out all over her. Look at Diana Blythe making eyes at that young what’s-his-name. And yet they say the Blythe girls never flirt! I doubt if she’ll be able to rope him in, for all her mother’s fine tactics. However,
that
is none of my business. I’m sure I hope poor Evelyn will be happy. But it doesn’t seem to me that anyone can be very happy when she’s simply marrying one man to save her face because another jilted her.
Is
anyone really happy in this mad world? They say the Blythes ... but who knows what goes on behind the scenes? Not even old Susan Baker, I’ll bet my hat. Besides, she’s too loyal to admit ...

“Now for the reception and the presents ... and the usual silly remarks ... and then the trip to Muskoka in D’Arcy’s new flivver. I wonder if the
Enterprise
will mention that the car is a flivver! Some difference between that and Elmer’s fifteen-thousand-dollar streamliner ... or even Jim’s old Packard. But Evelyn will have to come down to a good many things. Jim always spoiled his family. There they come ... quite a procession. I believe that boy is in love with Diana Blythe ... if it lasts. No doubt Mrs. Blythe will do all she can to keep the fire burning. They tell me that woman is a terrible matchmaker. I wish I had the knack. Then perhaps
my
girls ... well, well, Diana Blythe, you’re welcome to your young man if some other girl doesn’t snatch him up ...”

Prue Davis, a bit passé and envious of all brides in general, thinking,

“It seems so funny that Evelyn is marrying D’Arcy Phillips after all, when she has used him so abominably for years. He’s only a poor young professor ... but of course any port in a storm. She’s twenty-five ... and looks it ... more, I should say. Is that why she picked young bridesmaids? Diana Blythe looks sweet. Somehow, those Blythe girls are the only girls I ever met I really liked ... and their mother is the only woman I ever felt I could love. If I’d had a mother like her! Well, we have to take what’s handed out to us in this world, parents and children alike. D’Arcy is nice and clever ... there was a time when I might have caught him on the rebound ... after one of the worst of their quarrels. But I always drop my bread butter side down ... I’ve always been a fool and missed my chances. Of course the minute Evelyn crooked her finger he came to heel. Nobody else had any chance then. It’s just a way she has of looking up under her eyelids ... the Blythe girls all have it too, I’ve noticed ... well, some people have all the luck.

“I hope I won’t get this dress spotted ... receptions are such horrible things for that ... for heaven knows when I’ll get another. There they come ... Evelyn looks well ... she always knows how to wear her clothes, I’ll say that for her. It’s born in you. Look at Diana Blythe. I’ll bet that dress of hers didn’t cost a tenth as much as the others did ... I believe I heard a rumour she had it made in Charlottetown while the others came from Montreal ... and yet, look at it. Her hair, too. I never liked Evelyn’s ash-blonde hair. Heigh-ho! I found a grey hair today. We Davises all turn grey young. Oh, things are so beastly cruel. How do you do, Mrs. Blythe? A lovely wedding, wasn’t it?

“Now, Prue Davis, haven’t you any pride? Throw back your head and look as if you were sitting on top of the world.

“Thank heaven, that’s over. I don’t think any more people will speak to me. I don’t know many of the country folks here except the Blythes and they’ve gone. I wish the reception was over, too. I’m beginning to hate going to such things. ‘What, Prue Davis
still
! When are we going to attend
your
wedding?’ Apart from remarks like that, nobody would ever talk to me, except old married men. My looks are going and it’s no use having brains. When I say a clever thing to people they look startled and uncomfortable. I should just like to be quiet for years and years ... and not have to go on pretending to be bright and happy and quite,
quite
satisfied. But I suppose most people have to do it. Only sometimes I think Mrs. Blythe ...

“Oh, there’s someone else. How do you do, Mrs. Thompson? Oh, a lovely wedding! And such a charming bride! Oh,
me
! I’m not so easy to please as some girls, you know. And independence is
very
sweet, Mrs. Thompson.

“Of course she doesn’t believe for a moment I think that way but one must keep one’s head up. Now for it.”

Cousin Barbara Morse to a friend,