"Nay, dearest, nay, if thou wouldst have me paint
The home to which, if love fulfils its prayers,
This hand would lead thee, listen,"—
And taking me by the hand, he led me out into the beautiful avenue in which we had so often wandered, and continued, in the words of that charming play which he had read aloud in the early days of our acquaintance, with a thrilling expression which none but himself could give—
"We'll have no friends
That are not lovers; no ambition, save
To excel them all in love; we'll read no books
That are not tales of love; that we may smile
To think how poorly eloquence of words
Translates the poetry of hearts like ours!
And when night comes, amidst the breathless heavens,
We'll guess what star shall be our home when love
Becomes immortal; while the perfumed light
Steals through the mists of alabaster lamps,
And every air be heavy with the sighs
Of orange groves, and music from sweet lutes,
And murmurs of low fountains, that gush forth
I' the midst of roses!"
"Dost thou like the picture?"
How could I help answering, in the words of the impassioned Pauline,—
"Was ever young imaginative girl wooed in strains of sweeter romance?"
Was there ever a fairer prospect of felicity, if love, pure, intense love, constitutes the happiness of wedded life?
I will not swell these pages by describing the village wonder and gossip, when it was known that the orphan girl of the old gray cottage was exalted to so splendid a destiny; nor the congratulations of friends; the delight and exultation of Dr. Harlowe, who said he had discovered it all by my pulse long before; nor the deeply interesting and characteristic scene with Mr. Regulus; nor the parting interview with Mrs. Linwood and Edith.
Yes, I will give a brief sketch of the last hour spent with Edith, the night before the wedding. We were to be married in the morning, and immediately commence our bridal journey.
Edith had never alluded to her own feelings respecting her brother's marriage, since the evening of the only misunderstanding we ever had in our sisterly intercourse; and it was a subject I could not introduce. The delicate, gauzy reserve in which she enfolded herself was as impenetrable to me as an ancient warrior's armor.