Her Father's Daughter Page #6

"Her Father's Daughter" by Lucy Maud Montgomery is a semi-autobiographical novel that tells the story of Ellen, a young woman navigating her complex relationships with her father and the world around her. Set in the early 20th century, the narrative explores themes of identity, familial bonds, and the struggle for independence. Through Ellen's journey, the novel delves into her experiences of love, loss, and the quest for self-discovery, all while capturing the beauty and challenges of rural life in Canada. Montgomery's lyrical prose and deep characterizations bring to life the emotional landscape of a young woman coming of age amidst societal expectations and personal aspirations.

• Short story

								

timidly.

"No, no, dear.  Of course I'm not angry.  But don't you think
you'd better come back now?  It's nearly eight and everybody is
waiting."

"I've been trying to coax father to come up and see me married,"
said Rachel.  "Help me, Frank."

"You'd better come, sir," said Frank, heartily, "I'd like it as
much as Rachel would."

David Spencer shook his head stubbornly.

"No, I can't go to that house.  I was locked out of it.  Never
mind me.  I've had my happiness in this half hour with my little
girl.  I'd like to see her married, but it isn't to be."

"Yes, it is to be--it shall be," said Rachel resolutely.  "You
SHALL see me married.  Frank, I'm going to be married here in my
father's house!  That is the right place for a girl to be
married.  Go back and tell the guests so, and bring them all
down."

Frank looked rather dismayed.  David Spencer said deprecatingly:
"Little girl, don't you think it would be--"

"I'm going to have my own way in this," said Rachel, with a sort
of tender finality.  "Go, Frank.  I'll obey you all my life
after, but you must do this for me.  Try to understand," she
added beseechingly.

"Oh, I understand," Frank reassured her.  "Besides, I think you
are right.  But I was thinking of your mother.  She won't come."

"Then you tell her that if she doesn't come I shan't be married
at all," said Rachel.  She was betraying unsuspected ability to
manage people.  She knew that ultimatum would urge Frank to his
best endeavors.

Frank, much to Mrs. Spencer's dismay, marched boldly in at the
front door upon his return.  She pounced on him and whisked him
out of sight into the supper room.

"Where's Rachel?  What made you come that way?  Everybody saw
you!"

"It makes no difference.  They will all have to know, anyway.
Rachel says she is going to be married from her father's house,
or not at all.  I've come back to tell you so."

Isabella's face turned crimson.

"Rachel has gone crazy.  I wash my hands of this affair.  Do as
you please.  Take the guests--the supper, too, if you can carry
it."

"We'll all come back here for supper," said Frank, ignoring the
sarcasm.  "Come, Mrs. Spencer, let's make the best of it."

"Do you suppose that I am going to David Spencer's house?" said
Isabella Spencer violently.

"Oh you MUST come, Mrs. Spencer," cried poor Frank desperately.
He began to fear that he would lose his bride past all finding in
this maze of triple stubbornness.  "Rachel says she won't be
married at all if you don't go, too.  Think what a talk it will
make.  You know she will keep her word."

Isabella Spencer knew it.  Amid all the conflict of anger and
revolt in her soul was a strong desire not to make a worse
scandal than must of necessity be made.  The desire subdued and
tamed her, as nothing else could have done.

"I will go, since I have to," she said icily.  "What can't be
cured must be endured.  Go and tell them."

Five minutes later the sixty wedding guests were all walking over
the fields to the Cove, with the minister and the bridegroom in
the front of the procession.  They were too amazed even to talk
about the strange happening.  Isabella Spencer walked behind,
fiercely alone.

They all crowded into the little room of the house at the Cove,
and a solemn hush fell over it, broken only by the purr of the
sea-wind around it and the croon of the waves on the shore.
David Spencer gave his daughter away; but, when the ceremony was
concluded, Isabella was the first to take the girl in her arms.
She clasped her and kissed her, with tears streaming down her
pale face, all her nature melted in a mother's tenderness.

"Rachel!  Rachel!  My child, I hope and pray that you may be
happy," she said brokenly.

In the surge of the suddenly merry crowd of well-wishers around
the bride and groom, Isabella was pushed back into a shadowy
corner behind a heap of sails and ropes.  Looking up, she found
herself crushed against David Spencer.  For the first time in
twenty years the eyes of husband and wife met.  A strange thrill
shot to Isabella's heart; she felt herself trembling.

"Isabella."  It was David's voice in her ear--a voice full of
tenderness and pleading--the voice of the young wooer of her
girlhood--"Is it too late to ask you to forgive me?  I've been a
stubborn fool--but there hasn't been an hour in all these years
that I haven't thought about you and our baby and longed for
you."

Isabella Spencer had hated this man; yet her hate had been but a
parasite growth on a nobler stem, with no abiding roots of its
own.  It withered under his words, and lo, there was the old
love, fair and strong and beautiful as ever.

"Oh--David--I--was--all--to--blame," she murmured
brokenly.

Further words were lost on her husband's lips.

When the hubbub of handshaking and congratulating had subsided,
Isabella Spencer stepped out before the company.  She looked
almost girlish and bridal herself, with her flushed cheeks and
bright eyes.

"Let's go back now and have supper, and be sensible," she said
crisply.  "Rachel, your father is coming, too.  He is coming to
STAY,"--with a defiant glance around the circle.  "Come,
everybody."

They went back with laughter and raillery over the quiet autumn
fields, faintly silvered now by the moon that was rising over the
hills.  The young bride and groom lagged behind; they were very
happy, but they were not so happy, after all, as the old bride
and groom who walked swiftly in front.  Isabella's hand was in
her husband's and sometimes she could not see the moonlit hills
for a mist of glorified tears.

"David," she whispered, as he helped her over the fence, "how can
you ever forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive," he said.  "We're only just married.
Who ever heard of a bridegroom talking of forgiveness?
Everything is beginning over new for us, my girl."
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes