“If he is,” returned Mary, solemnly, “God takes care of those who perform their duty—trust to him, sister.”
“If anything should happen to him!” said Jane, weeping; “I have treated him so bad, teased him so dreadfully!”
“Law, Janey, don’t fret!” urged Aunt Polly; “it does the men good to tease ’em afore you’re married, soon enough to give up after the knot is tied.”
“Hark!” exclaimed Mother Derwent. “Hear that shout.”
“I wish we knew,” said Mary; “if I were only on the shore.”
“Don’t go, Mary!” pleaded Jane; “I shall die if you leave me. Besides, I ain’t dressed—oh Mary, do help me; it’ll all turn out well enough, I dare say—come.”
“Yes, go,” said Aunt Polly, smoothing out her dress; “I’ll stay with grandma.” Mary followed the agitated girl into the little bedroom which they had occupied since their childhood. The room was neatly arranged. Mother Derwent’s best blue worsted quilt, with the corners neatly tucked in at the foot posts, covered the high bed, and the white linen pillows lay like snow-heaps upon it. The old lady’s best patch-work cushion was placed in the arm-chair which stood in a corner, and a garland of Princes’ pine hung around the little looking-glass, before which Jane Derwent stood “with a blush on her cheek and a smile in her eye,” arranging the folds of her white muslin bridal dress over a form that would not have seemed out of place in a palace.
“Mary, shall I tie this on the side or behind?” inquired the blooming girl, holding up a sash of the most delicate blossom color, with the usual volatility of her nature, forgetting her alarm in the pleasant excitement of the moment. Mary lifted her face from the wreath of wild roses which she was forming for her sister’s hair, and smiled as she answered; but it was a smile of soft and gentle sadness, patient and sweet as the breath of a flower, though her cheek was pale with anxiety, for she felt that something terrible was close upon them.
“Let me tie it for you,” she said, laying the wreath on the pillow, and removing a handful of roses from her lap to a basket which stood on the rude window seat. “There, now sit down, while I twist the roses among your curls.”
Jane sunk gracefully to her sister’s feet, while she performed her task. When the last blossom was entwined on her temple, the bride raised her beautiful face to her sister’s with an expression of touching love.