Frank drew him off to the farthest corner of the little hut, made him sit down on the foot of his bed, seated himself by his side, and in a fervid, earnest, eloquent manner, told him their little story.
Many times the old man shook his thin, gray locks. They were not good things—these secret marriages—they never prospered. Marriage should be open as day—with the blessing of God—with the blessing of parents—with the sympathy of friends—with the good wishes of acquaintances to hallow and prosper the union.
“Oh!” said Frank, but this was an extraordinary occasion, the father was really at heart not opposed to this marriage, but circumstances compelled him to withhold his open consent—he himself, (Frank,) was about to depart on a long journey, and merely wished to secure his bride against a forced marriage of convenience during his absence. In short, Frank recommenced the argument, and told it all over from beginning to end.
Still the old man shook his bald head and demurred.
Frank began the story over again, recited the whole of it, with many additions and improvements.
To no purpose—the old man was obdurate. Frank, then half angrily, arose and said—
“Come Zuleime! We must go on to the frontier together, and find somebody to marry us on the route, and let Mr. Saunders here be responsible for all trouble that may ensue, since with the license before him, he refuses to unite us.” At this, Zuleime burst into tears and wept heartily.
The old preacher dropped his head upon his breast in troubled thought for some moments, and, whether the arguments of Frank had after all produced some effect, or whether he feared to encounter the responsibility of sending this wild young couple on their way unmarried, or whether he was moved to pity by the tears of Zuleime, or whether, as is more probable, all these considerations actuated him, I know not; but he slowly rose to his feet, uncovered his head, and lifted up his eyes in silent prayer awhile, then bade the young pair stand up, for that he would marry them.
Frank clasped the hand of Zuleime, and led her forward. And in less than fifteen minutes more, by the magic of a few words, the youth and maiden were man and wife. And while Mrs. Fairfax, with trembling white fingers, was tying her hat, Mr. Fairfax would have emptied the whole contents of his purse in the minister’s hands,—but, though that money might have supplied the poor old preacher with many necessaries for which he really suffered, and made him very comfortable for a long time, yet he turned away his head, and put it away from him, saying—
“No, young man, I cannot take your gold; I may have erred in what I have done, but I did not do it for money.”