After explaining all this to me, the young people walked off together, satisfied that I was made happy as themselves; and so I ought to have been; but my poor heart would not rest, and I went off into the woods like a wild bird, wondering why it was that a flutter of pain still kept stirring in my bosom.
They were married just two weeks from that day. All the principal families of the place were invited, and the entertainment proved a grand affair. All the grounds were illuminated for the occasion. The house was one blaze of lights. Every tree on the hill-side or the sloping lawn seemed blossoming with fire, or drooping with translucent fruit, so numerous were the colored lamps and gorgeous lanterns that hung amid their foliage.
It was like fairy-land to me. The moon was at its golden fulness, and never before had the purple skies seemed so full of stars; but, spite of this, I was sad and restless. Miss Olmsly insisted upon it that my mourning should be laid aside, and I felt strange in the cloudy whiteness of my dress, simple and plain as it was. Indeed, the whole thing seemed to me like a dream which must pass away on the morrow. Perhaps it was this abrupt change in my dress which made me feel so lonely when all the world was gay and brilliant beyond anything my short life had witnessed. Perhaps I felt sad at the thought of leaving my native land. Be this as it may, I can look back upon few nights of my life more dreary than that upon which the two best friends I ever had, or ever shall have, were married.
Memory is full of pictures; events fade away, feelings die out, but so long as the heart keeps a sentiment or the brain holds an image, groups will start up from the past and bring back scenes which no effort of the mind can displace. It is strange, but such pictures are burned, as it were, upon the soul unawares, and often without any remarkable event which can be said to have impressed them there. You may have known a person all your life, yet remember him only as he was presented to you at some given moment. Whole years may pass in which you scarcely seem to have observed him; but at some one moment he comes out upon your recollection with all his features perfect and clearly cut as a cameo.
Of all the pictures burned in upon my life, that of Mr. Lee and his bride, as they stood up in that long drawing-room to be married, will be the last to die out from my mind. No bridesmaids were in attendance; no ushers coming and going drew attention from that noble couple. This was the picture,—a woman standing at the left hand of a tall, stately man. He was upright, firm, and self-poised as the pillar of some old Grecian temple. She drooped gently forward, her hands unconsciously clasped, the long black lashes sweeping her cheeks; a soft tremor, as of red rose-leaves stirred by the wind, passing over her lips; draperies of satin, glossy and white as crusted snow, fell around her; a garland of blush-roses crowned the braids of purplish-black hair thickly coiled around a most queenly head. Draperies of rich, warm crimson fell from the windows just behind them, and swept around the foot of a noble vase of Oriental alabaster, from which a tall crimson and purple fuchsia-tree dropped its profuse bells. Directly the clergyman, with a book in his hand, broke into the picture; but my mind rejects him and falls back upon the man, and the woman who stood with lovelight in her eyes and prayers at her heart, waiting to become his wife.
There was great rejoicing after the picture was lost in a crowd of congratulating friends; music sent its soft reverberations out among the flowers, that gave back rich odors in return; for it was a lovely autumnal night, and the whole platform to which the windows opened was garlanded in with hot-house plants. I remember seeing groups of persons wandering about in the illuminated grounds. Their laughter reached me as I sat solitary and alone in the oriel window, over which lace curtains fell, and were kindled up like snow by the lights from without.
I was very sad that night, and felt the tears stealing slowly into my eyes. Every one was happy, but joy had forgotten to find me out. All at once the lace curtains were lifted softly and fell rustling down again. She had thought of me even in her happiest moments. Her arms were folded around me; her lips, warm with smiles, were pressed to my face.
"All alone and looking so sad! why will you not enjoy yourself like the rest?" she said.
"I am so young and so wicked," I answered, wiping the tears from my eyes.
"Wicked! oh, not that, only there is no one of your own age here; come out a little while; he has been asking for you."