AFTER THE HOLY WEDDING.
The bride rose from her knee
And she kissed the lips of her mother dead
Or ever she kissed me.
—E. B. Browning.
The benediction was scarcely spoken before the fair bride left her bridegroom's side and moved softly and swiftly to the side of the easy-chair, where the form of her ancestress lay reclining.
All eyes followed her strange action, as she knelt beside the chair and took the wasted hand of its occupant in her own. And some saw what Emma had been the first to discover—that the happy spirit of the aged lady was even then departing.
She spoke no word more, but slowly raising her hand she laid it gently, as in silent blessing, on the bowed head of her young descendant, and so, with a radiant smile, passed away heavenward.
"She's dropped asleep, my dear," said honest, stupid John Lytton, bending over to look at the closed eyes and peaceful face.
"She has fainted. This has been too much for her," said Mrs. Fanning, catching up the vial of ammonia and coming with the intention of administering it.
"She is neither sleeping nor swooning. She has risen," said Emma.
And, calmly putting aside the useless drug, she arose and reverently pressed a kiss upon the lifeless lips.
A moment of deep silence followed her words.
Then Dr. Jones, the son, himself an aged man, drew near and tenderly took up the lifeless hand and looked into the motionless face, and with a profound sigh turned away.
While this group was still gathered around the chair of death, the door was silently opened and the family physician entered the room and stood among them.
"She is gone, Doctor Willet," said the son, turning to greet the new-comer.
The physician nodded gravely to the sorrowing speaker, bowed to the assembled friends, and passed through them, as they made way for him to approach the body. He felt the wrist, where there was no pulse, looked into the eyes, where there was no light, and then, with a grave and silent nod, he confirmed the opinion of Dr. Jones.
Electra, who had been incredulous all this time about the reality of the death, and was anxiously watching the face of the physician, now burst into violent weeping, and had to be led from the room by Joseph Brent—Victor Hartman.
Emma stood, pale as marble, with her eyes cast down, her lips lightly pressed together, and her hands closely clasped.
"Take your young bride away also, Mr. Lytton. She is exerting great self-command now; but she can not much longer control her feelings," said Dr. Willet.
"Come, love," whispered the bridegroom, as he passed his arm gently around the waist of the now weeping girl and drew her away from the scene of death.
Mr. John Lytton followed them out, with the half-frightened air of a culprit stealing away from detection.
There now remained in the room of death the aged son, Dr. Beresford Jones, the family physician, Dr. Willet, the minister of the parish, the Rev. Mr. Lyle, and the two ladies, Mrs. Fanning and Laura Lytton.
"She passed away very gently, without the least suffering," said Mrs. Fanning.
"I thought she would do so. Hers has been a really physiological death, of ripe and pure old age," answered the doctor.
After a little more conversation the gentlemen withdrew, leaving the remains to the care of the two ladies, while they went to commence arrangements for the funeral.
Four days after this the body of Mrs. Cavendish was laid in the family vault, beside those of her husband and her son, the late governor.
The old lady had been long and widely known, and deeply and sincerely loved and honored, and her funeral was as largely attended as had been that of her son, some years before. After these solemn offices had all been performed the friends assembled to consult and make arrangements for the temporary disposition of the family left behind.
It was settled that Mrs. Fanning should remain at Blue Cliff Hall, in charge of the establishment, with Laura Lytton as her guest and companion.
Dr. Jones and Electra would, of course, return to Beresford Manors. They would be accompanied by Mr. Joseph Brent—Victor Hartman—who had grown to be a great favorite with the aged doctor, and in truth almost indispensable to his comfort and entertainment.
Mr. Lyle went back to the duties of his ministry at Wendover.
And finally, as there was now a vacation of the courts, and the young barrister was temporarily at liberty, Alden Lytton decided to take his young bride to Europe for their bridal tour.
On their way to New York they stopped for a day in Richmond, because Emma wished to see her old "friend," Mrs. Grey, before leaving for Europe.
Alden Lytton, though he felt persuaded in his own mind that Mrs. Grey would not receive them, yet promptly complied with his fair bride's wish.
So, the morning after their arrival at the Henrico House, in Richmond, Alden took a carriage and they drove to the old Crane Manor House and inquired for Mrs. Grey.
But, as Alden had foreseen, they received for an answer that Mrs. Grey was not at home.
Upon further inquiry they were told that she had left the city on business and would not return for a week.
And Alden Lytton rightly conjectured that she had gone away, and was staying away, for the one purpose of avoiding Emma and himself.
So the young bride, with a sigh, reluctantly resigned all hope of seeing her unworthy "friend" before sailing for Europe.
Early the next morning the newly-married pair took the steamboat for Washington, where in due time they safely arrived, and whence they took the train for the North.
They reached New York on Thursday night, had one intervening day to see something of the city and to make some few last purchases for their voyage, and on Saturday at noon they embarked on the magnificent ocean steamship "Pekin," bound from New York to Southampton.
We must leave them on board their ship, and return and look up Mary Grey.