Every thing was in readiness. The shrill notes of a bugle heralded the approach of Edgar and Imogene; and presently they entered the grove attended by the hymeneal retinue. While the little party moved slowly forward toward the bower, the surrounding woods resounded with the melodious and thrilling notes of the band, and the birds sung their sweetest.
It was a beautiful sight to behold these two young lovers approaching the altar to pledge their hearts to each other, and to take those mutual vows of fidelity before God and man.
When they arrived at the bower, an old man came forward with feeble steps, and taking the hand of each he placed them together and murmured:
“My children, I bless you; may Heaven look down upon and prosper this union!”
It was Thomas Lear, Imogene’s father.
The reader must not be surprised at this, for a revolution had taken place in the old man’s politics since the opening of our story. Being naturally an enthusiastic admirer of justice and a lover of personal and political freedom, he had been, at length, aroused by the feeling of liberty that was everywhere prevalent, and was now a stanch believer in the war for independence.
This radical change had not come about spontaneously but gradually, growing out of observation. He had perceived the injustice of the mother country toward her most promising child, and finally became one of the most devoted adherents to the cause of the Colonies.
The minister now performed the marriage ceremony, and our hero and heroine were pronounced man and wife. In an instant, the dreadful Past, with all its woes and sorrows, was buried in the deepest recesses of oblivion, leaving the happy Present, as it were, like an insurmountable barrier between it and the bright and promising Future, which dawned fair and beautiful upon the horizon of their happiness.
Their more intimate friends—among whom were Colonel Hall and War-Cloud—pressed around the happy couple to congratulate them, while the soldiers gave three hearty cheers for their brave captain and his lady, making the woods, hills, and valleys ring with the echo of a thousand voices.