There are a few times of our life—not the glorious eternal days, that stand alone, but, thank God! many hours which are nothing for us but pure and passive enjoyment, in which we exist. How exquisitely happy was I on this evening, for example! The prospect of the morrow so intensely bright, the present of such tender sweetness! How divine is Love in all its modifications! How inseparable is it from repose, from rapture!
As we went along the village and passed the shops, in the freshening sunbeams, low-shining from the bare blue heaven, I fetched a present for my brother and sister in the shape of two concert-tickets, which, contrary to Tedescan custom, were issued for the advantage of any interested strangers. I put them into Millicent's hand, saying, "You know I gave you no wedding-gift."
"Yes, Charles, you gave me this," and she looked up at Davy; "I should never have known him but for you."
"Which means, my love, that I am also to thank Charles for introducing me to you;" and Davy took off his hat with mock reverence.
"Oh! that won't do, Mr. Davy; for you said you had seen a beautiful Jewess at our window before you knew who lived in our house; and of course you would have got in there somehow, at last."
"Never!" said Davy, in a manner that convinced me he never would.
"Then I am very glad," said I,—"glad that I ran away one morning. The Chevalier says that nothing happens accidentally to such as I."
They laughed till they saw how serious I had grown again, and then smiled at each other. Arrived at our inn, we rested. Will it be believed that Davy had brought some of his own tea, besides several other small comforts? This much amused me. After our tea—a real home tea, which quite choked my unaccustomed faculties at first—Davy put his wife on the sofa, and with a bright authority there was no resisting, bade her be still while he fetched my part of the ceremony. This consisted of half a dozen pairs of beautiful white kid gloves,—treasures these indeed to a fiddler!—a white silk waistcoat, a small case of Spanish chocolate, and a large cake, iced and almonded.
"That was made at home, Charles," said Millicent, "and is exactly like that we sent to our friends."
In those days it was not old fashion, gentle reader, to send out bride-cake to one's friends. I need only mention a white favor or two, and a frosted silver flower, because I reserved the same for Josephine Cerinthia.