The next day we were married. In the dusk of the evening four figures stood in the spacious parlor of my father's mansion, by the light of a single waxen-candle. There was the clergyman, gazing in dumb surprise upon the parties to this ill-assorted marriage, there was my father, his countenance vacant almost to imbecility,—for the blow had stricken his intellect—there was the bridegroom, his countenance glowing with sensual triumph; and there the bride, pale as the bridal-dress which enveloped her form, about to be sacrificed on the altar of an unholy marriage. We were married, and between the parlor and the bridal chamber, one hope remained. Rather than submit to the embrace of the unworthy sensualist, I had determined to die, even upon the threshold of the bridal chamber. I had provided myself with a poniard. But alas! a glass of wine, drugged by my husband's hand, benumbed my reason, and when morning light broke upon me again, I found myself in his arms.
The history of the next three months may be rapidly told, for they were months of agony and shame.
"I have directed Walter by letter, to proceed from Havana to the city of Mexico," said my father to me, the second day after the marriage—"He will not return for six months, and certainly until his return, shall not hear of this,—this,—marriage."
My father's mind was broken, and from that hour, he surrendered himself to Issachar's control. Burley took charge of his business, made our house his home,—he was my father's master and mine. The course which he pursued to blunt my feelings, and deaden every faculty of my better nature, by rousing all that was sensual within me, was worthy of him. He gave parties at our home, to the profligate of both sexes, selected from a certain class of the so-called "fashionables," of New York. Revels, prolonged from midnight until dawn, disturbed the quiet of our mansion; and in the wine-cup, and amid the excitement of those fashionable, but unholy orgies, I soon learned to forget the pure hopes of my maidenhood.
Three months passed, and no word of Walter; my father, meanwhile, was sinking deeper every day into hopeless imbecility. At length, the early part of summer, my husband gathered together a party of his fashionable friends, and we departed on a tour to Niagara Falls, up the lakes, and then along the St. Lawrence, and to Montreal. At Niagara Falls we put up at the —— Hotel, and the orgies which had disgraced my father's mansion, were again resumed. My father we had left at home, in charge of a well-tried and faithful servant. One summer evening, tired of the scenes which took place in our parlors, at the hotel, I put on a bonnet and vail, and alone pursued my way, across the bridge to Iris Island, and from Iris to Luna Island. The night was beautiful; from a clear sky the moon shone over the falls; and the roar of waters, alone disturbed the silence of the scene. Crossing the narrow bridge which separates Iris Island from Luna Island, I took my way through the deep shadows of the thicket, until I emerged in the moonlight, upon the verge of the falls. Leaning against a small beech tree, which stands there, I clasped my hands upon my bosom, and wept. That scene, full of the grandeur and purity of nature, awoke the memory of my pure and happier days.
"One plunge and all is over!" the thought flashed over me,—and I measured with a rapid glance, the distance between myself and the brink of the cataract. But at this moment I discovered that I was not alone upon Luna Island. A stranger was leaning against a tree, which was nearer to the brink of the falls than the one against which I leaned. His face was in profile, the lower part of it covered with a thick moustache and beard; and his gaze was lifted absently to the moonlight sky. As I dropped my vail over my face, and gazed at him freely, myself unperceived, I felt my limbs bend beneath me, and the blood rush in a torrent to my head.
I had only strength to frame one word—"Walter!" and fell fainting on his breast.
When I recovered my consciousness, I found myself resting in his arms, while he covered my face with burning kisses.
"You here, Marion!" he cried. "This is indeed an unexpected pleasure!"
He had not heard of my marriage!