CHAPTER TWELFTH
"Bring flowers, fresh flowers for the bride to wear; They were born to blush in her shining hair; She's leaving the home of her childhood's mirth; She hath bid farewell to her father's hearth; Her place is now by another's side; Bring flowers for the locks of the fair young bride." --MRS. HEMANS.
A fair October day is waning, and as the shadows deepen and the starsshine out here and there in the darkening sky, the grounds at the Oaksglitter with colored lamps, swinging from the branches of the trees thatshade the long green alleys, and dependent from arches wreathed withflowers. In doors and out everything wears a festive look; almost thewhole house is thrown open to the guests who will presently come throngingto it from nearly every plantation for miles around.
The grand wedding has been talked of, prepared for, and looked forward tofor months past, and few, if any, favored with an invitation, willwillingly stay away.
The spacious entrance hall is brilliantly lighted, and on either handwide-open doors give admission to long suites of richly, tastefullyfurnished rooms, beautiful with rare statuary, paintings, articles ofvertu, and flowers scattered everywhere, in bouquets, wreaths, festoons,filling the air with their delicious fragrance.
These apartments, waiting for the guests, are almost entirely deserted;but in Elsie's dressing-room a bevy of gay young girls, in white tarletanand with flowers in their elaborately dressed hair, are laughing andchatting merrily, and now and then offering a suggestion to Aunt Chloe andDinah, whose busy hands are arranging their young mistress for her bridal.
"Lovely!" "Charming!" "Perfect!" the girls exclaim in delighted, admiringchorus, as the tirewomen having completed their labors, Elsie standsbefore them in a dress of the richest white satin, with an overskirt ofpoint lace, a veil of the same, enveloping her slender figure like an airycloud, or morning mist, reaching from the freshly gathered orange blossomswreathed in the shining hair to the tiny white satin slipper just peepingfrom beneath the rich folds of the dress. Flowers are her only ornamentto-night, and truly she needs no other.
"Perfect! nothing superfluous, nothing wanting," says Lottie King.
Rose, looking almost like a young girl herself, so sweet and fair in herbeautiful evening dress, came in at that instant to see if all was rightin the bride's attire. Her eyes grew misty while she gazed, her heartswelling with a strange mixture of emotions: love, joy, pride, and a touchof sadness at the thought of the partial loss that night was to bring toher beloved husband and herself.
"Am I all right, mamma?" asked Elsie.
"I can see nothing amiss," Rose answered, with a slight tremble in hervoice. "My darling, I never saw you so wondrously sweet and fair," shewhispered, adjusting a fold of the drapery. "You are very happy?"
"Very, mamma dear; yet a trifle sad too. But that is a secret between youand me. How beautiful you are to-night."
"Ah, dear child, quite ready, and the loveliest bride that ever I saw,from the sole of your head to the crown of your foot," said a silveryvoice, as a quaint little figure came softly in and stood at Mrs.Dinsmore's side--"no, I mean from the crown of your foot to the sole ofyour head. Ah, funerals are almost as sad as weddings. I don't know howpeople can ever feel like dancing at them."
"Well, auntie dear, there'll be no dancing at mine," said Elsie, smilingslightly.
"I must go and be ready to receive our guests," said Rose, hearing therumble of carriage wheels. "Elsie, dear child," she whispered, "keep calm.You can have no doubts or fears in putting your future in----"
"No, no, mamma, not the slightest," and the fair face grew radiant.
As Rose passed out at one door, Miss Stanhope following, with a partinginjunction to the bride not to grow frightened or nervous, Mr. Dinsmoreentered by another.
He stood a moment silently gazing upon his lovely daughter; then a slightmotion of his hand sent all others from the room, the bridesmaids passinginto the boudoir, where the groom and his attendants were alreadyassembled, the tirewomen vanishing by a door on the opposite side.
"My darling!" murmured the father, in low, half tremulous accents, puttinghis arm about the slender waist, "my beautiful darling! how can I give youto another?" and again and again his lips were pressed to hers in long,passionate kisses.
"Papa, please don't make me cry," she pleaded, the soft eyes lifted tohis, filled almost to overflowing.
"No, no, I must not," he said, hastily taking out his handkerchief andwiping away the tears before they fell. "It is shamefully selfish in me tocome and disturb your mind thus just now."
"No, papa, no, no; I will not have you say that. Thank you for coming. Itwould have hurt me had you stayed away. But you would not have thingsdifferent now if you could? have no desire to."
"No, daughter, no; yet, unreasonable as it is, the thought will come,bringing sadness with it, that to-night you resign my name, and my houseceases to be your only home."
"Papa, I shall never resign the name dear to me because inherited fromyou: I shall only add to it; your house shall always be one of my dearhomes, and I shall be your own, own daughter, your own child, as truly asI ever have been. Is it not so?"
"Yes, yes, my precious little comforter."
"And you are not going to give me away--ah, papa, I could never bear thatany more than you; you are taking a partner in the concern," she addedwith playful tenderness, smiling archly through gathering tears.
Again he wiped them hastily away. "Did ever father have such a deardaughter?" he said, gazing fondly down into the sweet face. "I ought to bethe happiest of men. I believe I am----"
"Except one," exclaimed a joyous voice, at sound of which Elsie's eyesbrightened and the color deepened on her cheek. "May I come in?"
"Yes, Travilla," said Mr. Dinsmore; "you have now an equal right with me."
Travilla thought his was superior, or would be after the ceremony, butgenerously refrained from saying so. And had Mr. Dinsmore been questionedon the subject, he could not have asserted that it had ever occurred tohim that Mr. Allison had an equal right with himself in Rose. But fewpeople are entirely consistent.
Mr. Travilla drew near the two, still standing together, and regarded hisbride with a countenance beaming with love and delight. The sweet eyessought his questioningly, and meeting his ardent gaze the beautiful facesparkled all over with smiles and blushes.
"Does my toilet please you, my friend?" she asked. "And you, papa?"
"The general effect is charming," said Mr. Travilla; "but," he added, inlow, tender tones saying far more than the words, "I've been able to seenothing else for the dear face that is always that to me."
"I can see no flaw in face or attire," Mr. Dinsmore said, taking a morecritical survey; "you are altogether pleasing in your doting father'seyes, my darling. But you must not stand any longer. You will need allyour strength for your journey." And he would have led her to a sofa.
But she gently declined. "Ah, I am much too fine to sit down just now, mydear, kind father, I should crush my lace badly. So please let me stand. Iam not conscious of weariness."
He yielded, saying with a smile, "That would be a pity; for it is verybeautiful. And surely you ought to be allowed your own way to-night ifever."
"To-night and ever after," whispered the happy groom in the ear of hisbride.
A loving, trustful look was her only answer.
A continued rolling of wheels without, and buzz of voices coming fromveranda, hall, and reception rooms, could now be heard.
"The house must be filling fast," said Mr. Dinsmore, "and as host I shouldbe present to receive and welcome my guests, Travilla," and his voicetrembled slightly, as he took Elsie's right hand and held it for a momentclosely clasped in his; "I do not fear to trust you with what to me is agreater treasure than all the gold of California. Cherish my darling asthe apple of your eye; I know you will."
He bent down for another silent caress, laid the hand in that of hisfriend, and left the room.
"And you do not fear to trust me, my little friend?" Travilla's tones,too, were tremulous with deep feeling.
"I have not the shadow of a fear," she answered, her eyes meeting his withan earnest, childlike confidence.
"Bless you for those words, dearest," he said; "God helping me you nevershall have cause to regret them."
A door opened, and a handsome, dark eyed boy, a miniature likeness of hisfather, came hurrying in. "Elsie! Papa said I might come and see howbeautiful you are!" he cried, as if resolutely mastering some strongemotion, "but I'm not to say anything to make you cry. I'm not to hug youhard and spoil your dress. Oh, but you do look like an angel, onlywithout the wings. Mr. Travilla, you'll be good, _good_ to her, won'tyou?" and the voice almost broke down.
"I will, indeed, Horace; you may be sure of that. And you needn't feel asif you are losing her, she'll be back again in a few weeks, please God."
"But not to live at home any more!" he cried impetuously. "No, no, Iwasn't to say that, I----"
"Come here and kiss me, my dear little brother," Elsie said tenderly; "andyou shall hug me, too, as hard as you like, before I go."
He was not slow to accept the invitation, and evidently had a hardstruggle with himself, to refrain from giving the forbidden hug.
"You may hug me instead, Horace, if you like," said Mr. Travilla; "youknow we're very fond of each other, and are going to be brothers now."
"Yes, that I will, for I do like you ever so much," cried the boy,springing into the arms held out to him, and receiving and returning awarm embrace, while the sister looked on with eyes glistening withpleasure.
"Now, in a few minutes I'll become your brother Edward; and that's what Iwant you to call me in future. Will you do it?"
"Yes, sir; if papa doesn't forbid me."
A light tap at the door leading into the boudoir, and Walter put in hishead. "The company, the clergy-man, and the hour have come. Are the brideand groom ready?"
"Yes."
Releasing the child, Mr. Travilla drew Elsie's hand within his arm. Foran instant he bent his eyes with earnest, questioning gaze upon her face.It wore an expression that touched him to the heart, so perfectlytrustful, so calmly, peacefully happy, yet with a deep tender solemnitymingling with and subduing her joy. The soft eyes were misty with unshedtears as she lifted them to his.
"It is for life," she whispered; "and I am but young and foolish; shallyou never regret?"
"Never, _never_; unless you grow weary of your choice."
The answering smile was very sweet and confiding. "I have not chosenlightly, and do not fear because it is for life," was its unspokenlanguage.
And truly it was no hasty, ill-considered step she was taking, but onethat had been calmly, thoughtfully pondered in many an hour of solitudeand communion with that unseen Friend whom from earliest youth she hadacknowledged in all her ways, and who had, according to His promise,directed her paths. There was no excitement, no nervous tremor, about herthen or during the short ceremony that made them no more twain but oneflesh. So absorbed was she in the importance and solemnity of the act shewas performing, that little room was left for thought of anythingelse--her personal appearance, or the hundreds of pairs of eyes fixed uponher; even her father's presence, and the emotions swelling in his breastwere for the time forgotten. Many marked the rapt expression of her face,and the clear and distinct though low tones of the sweet voice as shepledged herself to "love, honor, and obey." Mr. Travilla's promise "tolove, honor, and cherish to life's end," was given no less earnestly andemphatically.
The deed was done; and relatives and friends gathered about them withkindly salutations and good wishes.
Mr. Dinsmore was the first to salute the bride. "God bless and keep you,my daughter," were his tenderly whispered words.
"Dear, dear papa," was all she said in response, but her eyes spokevolumes. "I am yours still, your very own, and glad it is so," they said.
Then came Rose with her tender, silent caress, half-sorrowful,half-joyful, and Mrs. Travilla with her altogether joyous salutation, "Mydear daughter, may your cup of happiness be ever filled to overflowing;"while Mr. Dinsmore to hide his emotion turned jocosely to Travilla with ahearty shake of the hand, and "I wish you joy, my son."
"Thank you, father," returned the groom gravely, but with a twinkle ofmerriment in his eye.
Aunt Wealthy, standing close by awaiting her turn to greet the bride,shook her head at her nephew. "Ah, you are quite too old for that, Horace.Mr. Vanilla, I wish you joy; but what am I to call you now?"
"Edward, if you please, Aunt Wealthy."
"Ah, yes, that will do nicely; it's a good name--so easily forgotten.Elsie, dearie, you went through it brave as a lion. May you never wishyou'd lived your lane like your auld auntie."
"As if single blessedness could ever be real blessedness!" sneered Enna,coming up just in time to catch the last words.
"Our feelings change as we grow older," returned Miss Stanhope, in hergentle, refined tones, "and we come to look upon quiet and freedom fromcare as very desirable things."
"And I venture to say that old age is not likely to find Mrs. Percival sohappy and contented as is my dear old maiden aunt," remarked Mr. Dinsmore.
"Yet we will hope it may, papa," said Elsie, receiving Enna's salutationwith kindly warmth.
But the list of relatives, near connections, and intimate friends, is toolong for particular mention of each. All the Dinsmores were there, bothmarried and single; also most of the Allisons. Harold had not come withthe others, nor had he either accepted or rejected the invitation.
On first raising her eyes upon the conclusion of the ceremony, had Elsiereally seen, far back in the shadow of the doorway, a face white, rigid,hopeless with misery as his when last they met and parted? She could nottell; for if really there, it vanished instantly.
"Did Harold come?" she asked of Richard when he came to salute the brideand groom.
"I think not; I haven't seen him, I can't think what's come over the ladto be so neglectful of his privileges."
Harry Duncan was there, too, hanging upon the smiles of merry, saucy,blue-eyed May Allison; while her brother Richard seemed equally enamoredwith the brunette beauty and sprightliness of Lottie King.
Stiffness and constraint found no place among the guests, after the eventof the evening was over.
In the great dining-room a sumptuous banquet was laid; and thither, aftera time, guests and entertainers repaired.
The table sparkled with cut-glass, rare and costly china, and solid silverand gold plate. Every delicacy from far and near was to be found upon it;nothing wanting that the most fastidious could desire, or the most lavishexpenditure furnish. Lovely, fragrant flowers were there also in theutmost profusion, decorating the board, festooning the windows anddoorways, in bouquets upon the mantels and antique stands, scattered hereand there through the apartment, filling the air with their perfume; whilea distant and unseen band discoursed sweetest music in soft, deliciousstrains.
The weather was warmer far than at that season in our northern clime, theoutside air balmy and delightful, and through the wide-open doors andwindows glimpses might be caught of the beautiful grounds, lighted hereand there by a star-like lamp shining out among the foliage. Silent anddeserted they had been all the earlier part of the evening, but now groupafter group, as they left the bountiful board, wandered into their greenalleys and gay parterres; low, musical tones, light laughter, and merryjests floating out upon the quiet night air and waking the echoes of thehills.
But the bride retired to her own apartments, where white satin, veil, andorange blossoms, were quickly exchanged for an elegant traveling dress,scarcely less becoming to her rare beauty.
She reappeared in the library, which had not been thrown open to theguests, but where the relations and bridesmaids were gathered for thefinal good-bye.
Mr. Dinsmore's family carriage, roomy, easy-rolling, and softly cushioned,stood at the door upon the drive, its spirited gray hor
ses pawing theground with impatience to be gone. It would carry the bride and groom--anda less pretentious vehicle their servants--in two hours to the seaportwhere they were to take the steamer for New Orleans; for their honeymoonwas to be spent at Viamede, Elsie still adhering to the plan of a yearago.
Her adieus were gayly given to one and another, beginning with those leastdear; very very affectionately to Mrs. Travilla, Aunt Wealthy, Rose, andthe little Horace (the sleeping Rosebud had already been softly kissed inher crib).
Her idolized father only remained; and now all her gayety forsook her, allher calmness gave way, and clinging about his neck, "Papa, papa, oh papa!"she cried, with a burst of tears and sobs.
"Holy and pure are the drops that fall, When the young bride goes from her father's hall; She goes unto love yet untried and new-- She parts from love which hath still been true."
It was his turn now to comfort her. "Darling daughter," he said, caressingher with exceeding tenderness, "we do not part for long. Should it pleaseGod to spare our lives, I shall have my precious one in my arms in a fewshort weeks. Meantime we can have a little talk on paper every day. Shallwe not?"
"Yes, yes, dear, dear, precious father."
Mr. Travilla stood by with a face full of compassionate tenderness.Putting one hand into her father's, Elsie turned, gave him the other, andtogether they led her to the carriage and placed her in it. There was ahearty, lingering hand-shaking between the two gentlemen. Mr. Travillatook his seat by Elsie's side, and amid a chorus of good-byes they werewhirled rapidly away.
"Cheer up, my dear," said Rose, leaning affectionately on her husband'sarm; "it is altogether addition and not subtraction; you have not lost adaughter but gained a son."
"These rooms tell a different tale," he answered with a sigh. "Howdesolate they seem. But this is no time for the indulgence of sadness. Wemust return to our guests, and see that all goes merry as a marriage bellwith them till the last has taken his departure."
Elsie's Womanhood Page 12