Now, when the whole household was wrapped in silence, and the lamps extinguished, and I sat in my night robe in the recess of the window, she came and sat down beside me. We could see each other's faces by the silver starlight It glittered on the tear drops in the eyes of both. I put my arms around her, and, laying my head on her bosom, poured out all the love, gratitude, and affection with which my full heart was burdened.
"Forgive me, my beloved Gabriella," she cried, "my apparent coldness and estrangement. On my knees I have asked forgiveness of my heavenly Father. With my arms round your neck, and your heart next mine, I ask forgiveness of you. Try not to think less of me for the indulgence of a too selfish and exacting spirit, but remember me as the poor little cripple, who for years found her brother's arm her strength and her stay, and learned to look up to him as the representative of Providence, as the protecting angel of her life. Only make him happy, my own dear sister, and I will yield him, not to your stronger, but your equal love. His only fault is loving you too well, in depreciating too much his own transcendent powers. You cannot help being happy with him, with a being so noble and refined. If he ever wounds you by suspicion and jealousy, bear all, and forgive all, for the sake of his exceeding love,—for my sake, Gabriella, and for the sake of the dear Redeemer who died for love of you."
Dear, lovely, angelic Edith! noble, inestimable Mrs. Linwood!—dearly beloved home of my orphan years,—grave of my mother, farewell!
Farewell!—the bride of Ernest must not, cannot weep.
CHAPTER XXXI.
The early portion of my married life was more like a dream of heaven than a reality of earth. All, and more than I had ever imagined of wedded happiness, I realized. The intimate and constant companionship of such a being as Ernest, so intellectual, so refined, so highly gifted, so loving and impassioned, was a privilege beyond the common destiny of women. A hundred times I said to myself in the exultant consciousness of joy,—
"How little his mother knows him! The jealousy of the lover has yielded to the perfect confidence of the husband. Our hearts are now too closely entwined for the shadow of a cloud to pass between them. He says himself, that it would be impossible ever to doubt a love so pure and so entire as mine."
Our home was as retired as it was possible to be in the heart of a great metropolis. It was near one of those beautiful parks which in summer give such an aspect of life and purity to surrounding objects, with their grassy lawns, graceful shade trees, and fountains of silvery brightness playing in the sunshine, and diffusing such a cool, delicious atmosphere, in the midst of heat, dust, and confusion. In winter, even, these parks give inexpressible relief to the eye, and freedom to the mind, that shrinks from the compression of high brick walls, and longs for a more expanded view of the heavens than can be obtained through turreted roofs, that seem to meet as they tower.
It made but little difference to me now, for my heaven was within. The external world, of which I believed myself wholly independent, seemed but a shell enclosing the richness and fragrance of our love. The luxuries and elegancies of my own home were prized chiefly as proofs of Ernest's watchful and generous love.