CHAPTER XXXIX.
"And lo! at last relieved from every toil,
They come! the wanderers view their native soil!
Then the bright raptures words can never speak,
Flash in their eyes, and mantle in their cheek!
Then Love and Friendship, whose unceasing prayer,
Implored for them each guardian spirit's care;
In that blest moment all the past forget,—
Hours of suspense, and vigils of regret!" Mrs. Hemans.
Crawford, Monday, August 4th.
Dear Mother,—Since the hasty letter I wrote you, announcing our safe arrival at home, my time has been so fully occupied that I have been altogether unable to resume my journal. Our dear, lovely Pauline is to leave us the first of October. It is fortunate for me that cares and duties demand every moment of my time, else I fear, I should spend much of it in the unprofitable employment of weeping. Indeed, there is a sad weight at my heart, and sometimes when my darling child sits down before me, and lays her head in my lap, I am completely overcome. How fully, dear mother, I can enter into your sorrow, when I remember the convulsive embrace with which you held me to your heart on the event of my leaving home. I can again see the tears which flowed like rain down your pale cheeks, and hear your broken voice saying, "May God bless you, my own dear Cora, and comfort your mother in her loss."
I must relate to you one little circumstance in connection with Pauline, as showing the length of her attachment to Joseph. Eugene was trying to unlock a small work-box, (as I had always taken it to be,) with a key of his own, his sister having playfully refused to allow him to see the contents. She sat by laughing, perfectly secure that he had no key which would fit the lock, when all at once the cover flew open. I had just entered the room, when she said merrily, "There, Eugene, give it to me. It's useless to try;" when, as she perceived his success, her tone changed to one of such deep distress, as she eagerly tried to take it from him. "Oh! my dear, dear brother, do give it to me." I looked in surprise. Eugene held the box behind him while she stood with anxious, tearful distress, begging him to restore it. I stepped quietly behind, and took the box with its precious contents from his hand.
"Eugene," said I, shaking my head at him, "you are a naughty boy to tease your sister." He called Nelly, his inseparable companion and adviser, and went into the garden. I still held the box, and when we were alone, I presented it to her with a smile, saying, "It would be safer, my dear, to put this out of Eugene's way, since he is so curious to know the contents."
She held it tightly for a moment, a struggle evidently taking place in her mind, when she said frankly, "Dear mamma, it is only some letters you permitted me to keep."
"Letters from whom?" I asked eagerly.
She put the whole into my hands, saying, "Dear mamma, you gave them to me," and she hid her face on my shoulder. Judge of my surprise when I found letters and scraps of letters dating back as far as 1836, when Joseph was a gay boy. In truth almost every one of them contained some message to his young friend.
Then there was a sheet of scribbling, with the names, Joseph Lenox Morgan and Pauline De Lacy Lenox, written in every variety of penmanship, in cousin's bold hand. These were interspersed with pictures evidently drawn to please a young child; a tall gentleman leading a little girl; then a young lady taking the arm of her companion, while underneath were written the names "Joseph and Pauline." These were the precious mementos which she had hoarded with as much care as the miser does his gold; and she confessed with tears, that when Adele was with us at Nice, almost her only comfort consisted in reading over and over these messages of love.
"When Eugene told me of his affection for me," she added, with a slight shudder, "I thought I ought to destroy them; but I had not the strength to do it."
I pressed the artless child to my heart, as I said, "And when I blamed you for treating Joseph so ill, did you love him then?"
"Oh! mamma," said she weeping, "how I longed to tell you all about it! I never knew until Joseph came, how much I loved him. But then I knew also that Eugene loved me and desired me to return his affection, and I feared it would be wrong toward him, for me to show my strong attachment to my cousin. Besides I thought Joseph would despise me if he saw my regard for him while another sought my heart and my hand."
Thursday, October 2d.
Yesterday morning, at eleven o'clock, my dear Pauline was married. I cannot yet realize that she has left me. The young couple started directly on their wedding tour, and will return in a fortnight to pass a few days with us, before they go to B——, where she is to be for the present, in the family of her father-in-law. It is their wish to give up the whole management of the household to her. But Joseph prefers to wait until she can determine for herself whether she will board with them, or whether the new couple shall set up a separate establishment and keep house by themselves. In the midst of all my sadness, I cannot but smile at his treatment of her. He listens to her words, as to oracles of wisdom, and is as tender of her as a father of an only and a feeble daughter, while she is the very picture of health and cheerfulness.
But I forget that I have told you nothing of the wedding,—the company,—the ceremonies and the bridal gifts. I allowed Pauline to make her own arrangements, and was not a little surprised and delighted at her characteristic choice of bridemaids. In all her plans, Eugene and Nelly were zealous, if not able advisers; and I doubt whether any young masters or misses were ever more elated than were those appointed to this service.
Upon Monday evening, Joseph arrived with uncle and aunt Morgan. Uncle presented his intended daughter with a splendid service of plate, manufactured expressly for her; and aunt, with a bridal veil which Joseph had imported for her. Tuesday evening a large box arrived from Lee Hall, directed to "Mrs. Joseph Morgan elect." Poor Pauline was kept very rosy from morning till night, by Eugene's continual practice on the enunciation of this new name, that he might obtain its sweetest and most approved accent. The dear girl was almost overcome by this public recognition of her new title. On opening the box, it was found to contain a magnificent silver urn with slop-bowl to match, lined with gold. This gift was from our dear friend, Mrs. Mansfield. Many other appropriate and rich presents were received from friends, which I have not time to specify, as I must hasten to my account of the wedding.
It was private, but few being present, as Pauline is to meet her friends on her return, and has appointed the twenty-first of October, her father's birth-day, for her wedding party.
On Wednesday morning, at eleven o'clock, the time appointed for the ceremony, Eugene ushered us into the parlor, where we found Allen and Lucy, Dr. and Mrs. Clapp, Miss Proctor, uncle and aunt, Mr. Benson and Emily, and our dear mother with our beloved pastor and his family, while Cæsar, Phebe, Ruth and Ann filled up the back ground, and gave an agreeable variety to the shading of the picture. Eugene formally conducted the Doctor and myself to the seats of distinguished guests, and then retired to fulfil his duty as master of ceremonies, which from the youthfulness and inexperience of many of the company, and the perfect order with which they entered the room, must have required no little skill in the training.
First entered Eugene and Nelly; then Charles Karswell and Anna Reynolds, who are shortly to be married; next Henry Marshall, grandson of our friend the Attorney General, and Emily Lenox Mansfield; next Franky Lenox and Susy Benson, while Willie Reynolds and little black-eyed Hatty Clapp brought up the rear. These all walked, with the order and dignity befitting the occasion, to their proper places, leaving a vacant space in the centre for the young bride, who entered last, leaning on the arm of him whom she had loved "from very childhood up."
Truly, they were a noble pair. He was tall and erect, with a broad, high brow, and eyes beaming with fondness upon the fair face so confidingly upturned to his own. She wore a white satin dress with an over-dress of gossamer lace. Her hair, which she always wore in natural curls, falling upon her neck, was looped up at the sides with a wreath of orange flowers, that also confined her veil. Sister Emily, who, with Lucy Mansfield's assistance, dressed the bride, and gave the finishing touch to the dress of all the young men and maidens, was much delighted at the complete success of her efforts. Rev. Mr. Munroe, by a few mystic words made the twain one forever. Then after prayer for a blessing on the happy union, all walked up to salute the bride.
Though my heart was overflowing, yet I had been able to command myself until my husband led me to the bride. I tried to speak, but finding my voice inarticulate, hastily kissed her and retired for a few moments to recover myself. When I returned to the room, Cæsar was passing the cake, while his countenance wore a ludicrous mixture of sorrow and delight. He evidently felt a strong inclination to weep; but his duties rendering this inappropriate and inconvenient, he tried to assume an expression of the joy which he conceived to be more befitting the occasion.
Uncle and aunt Morgan will remain with us until after Pauline's return and levee. A list of the persons to be then invited she put into the hand of her brother Eugene. The day before she went, she consulted me about the number she should invite. I replied, "just as many as you please, and just whom you please."
From her choice of bridemaids, I rather think, there will be a miscellaneous company. But if it gives the dear girl pleasure and affords her an opportunity to take leave of friends, to whom she is ardently attached, I shall be satisfied.
Both she and Eugene were delighted that the levee would occur on their father's birth-day. Emily Benson has brought her babies to make us a family visit while uncle and aunt Morgan are here, so that I have no time to be lonely.