"Or, look at yourself," was all that Esther could say, as she bent over the happy bride, thus hiding her face,—grown suddenly pale,—from the light. "Shall I tell her all?" the thought flashed over her, as she wound her hands through the rich meshes of Eleanor's hair,—"shall I tell this beautiful girl, who is as proud as she is beautiful, that in the veins of her husband there is—negro blood?"
But the very thought of such a revelation appalled her.
"Better leave it to the future," she thought, and then said aloud, "Tell me, Eleanor, something about Italy."
And while Esther, with sisterly hands, arrayed her for the bridal, the proud and happy bride, whose every vein swelled with abounding life and love, spoke of Italy,—of its skies and its monuments,—of the hour when she first met Randolph, and also of the moment when, amid the Apennines, he saved her life, her honor.
"O, sister, do you think that a love like ours can ever know the shadow of change?"
Happy Eleanor!
Meanwhile Randolph, standing by the parlor window apparently gazing upon the current of life which whirled madly along Broadway, in the light of the declining day, was in reality abstracted from all external existence, and buried in his own thoughts,—thoughts delicious and enchanting. Was there no phantom in the background, to cast its fatal shadow over the rich landscape which rose before his mental eye?
He was attired for the marriage ceremony, in a severely plain costume, which well became his thoughtful face and manly frame,—black dress coat, vest of white Marseilles, open collar and black neckerchief. As he stood there, noble-featured, broad-browed, his clear blue eyes and dark hair, contrasting with his complexion whose extreme pallor indicated by no means either lack of health or vigor, who would have thought that there was—negro blood in his veins?
"In an hour Eleanor will be my wife!" he muttered, and his brow grew clouded and thoughtful, even while his eyes were filled with passionate light. "But there is no use of reflecting now. I must leave that fatal disclosure, with all its chances and consequences, to the future. Eleanor will be my wife, come what will."