“Mademoiselle met me with a radiant smile, and her wedding dress of white silk, made her look perfectly charming. Her lips were caressing, her eyes melting, but all at once, as she looked at me, I saw the color all fade out of the rosy lips of the lady; and from the great dark eyes darted the lurid flash. A chill, like that of death smote me, I know not why, but I suppressed my emotion. In ten minutes, I was standing before the excellent clergyman, the young lady’s cold hand in mine—and we were duly declared man and wife.
“All my forebodings and strange shrinkings were completely dissipated at this instant. I was overwhelmed with happiness, and would not have envied a king upon his throne. With the hand of the lovely creature in my own, and her eyes fixed upon me with an expression of the deepest love, I experienced but one emotion—that of full, complete, unalloyed happiness.
“Let me hasten on. The storm is coming, my dear Surry. I linger on the threshold of the tragedy, and recoil even now, with a sort of shudder from the terrible scenes which succeeded my marriage. Tragedy is a mild word, as you will perceive, for the drama. It was going to surpass Aeschylus—and preserve the Greek ‘unities’ with frightful precision!
“Half an hour after the ceremony, I led madam to my chariot; followed her into the vehicle, and making a last sign of greeting to the good parson, directed the driver to proceed to Fonthill. Madam’s excellent brother did not accompany us. He declared his intention to remain on that night at the parsonage. He would call at Fonthill on the next day—on the day after, he proposed to continue his way to Georgia. His eyes were not a pleasant spectacle as he uttered these words, and I observed a singular pallor came to madam’s countenance. But I was in no mood to nourish suspicion. At the height of happiness, I looked serenely down upon all the world, and with the hand of my wife in my own, was driven rapidly to Fonthill.
“We arrived in the afternoon, and dined in state, all alone. Madam did the honors of her table with exquisite grace, but more than once I saw her hand shake in a very singular way, as she carried food or a glass to her lips.
“After dinner she bade me a smiling courtesy, leaving me to find company in my cigar, she said; and tripped off to her chamber.
“Well, I lit my cigar, retired to the library, and seating myself in an arm-chair before the fire, began to reflect. It was nearly the middle of December, and through the opening in the curtains I could see the moonlight on the chill expanse of the lawn.
“I had just taken my seat, when I heard a step in the passage, the door of the library opened, and Nighthawk, as pale as a ghost, and with a strange expression in his eyes, entered the apartment.”