At the end of that time preparations were again made for the marriage, which was again arrested by the hand of death.
A malignant fever was prevailing, and Mrs. Lyon, the widow of the chief justice, was one of its first victims.
At length, at the close of this second term of mourning and seclusion, the household awoke as from a nightmare dream and busied itself with blithe bridal affairs.
The splendid city mansion and the fine old country house of the late chief justice were both renovated and refurnished in costly style for the reception of the new mistress.
It was settled that the marriage should take place early in November. In accordance with the old-time prejudices of General Lyon, it was to be solemnized, in the evening, in the great drawing-room of Old Lyon Hall, in the presence of a large party of friends, who were afterwards to be entertained with a ball and supper. The bride and groom were to leave the next morning for a short tour, after which they were to go to Richmond and settle down for the winter in their town house, where they were to be joined by the general.
Such was the arrangement. But “man proposes and”—you know the rest.
The autumn weather that had been glorious with the “excess of glory” in a genial, refulgent and prolonged Indian Summer, suddenly changed. The wedding-day dawned threateningly. No sun shone on it. Heavy black clouds darkened the sky; wild, mournful winds wailed through the woods; violent gusts of rain dashed suddenly down at intervals and as suddenly ceased.
The inmates of the old Hall watched the weather in hope and fear. Would it clear up? Or would it grow worse? they asked themselves and each other. Certainly there was no sign of its clearing; quite the contrary, for as the day declined the storm thickened.
Fires were kindled in every room of the old house.
In the great drawing-room the two broad fire-places, one at each end, were piled high with huge hickory logs, that were burning and blazing and filling the long room with glowing light and genial warmth, all the more comfortable and delightful in contrast to the tempestuous weather without—shining on the tall brass andirons and fender; shining on the polished oak floor, with its rich Turkey rugs laid before each fire-place and sofa; shining on the wainscotted walls with their time-honored family portraits; shining on the bright black walnut furniture; and on every surface and point that could reflect a ray of light.