“Would that I were!” he murmured, letting his head fall upon his breast.
“That is much to say of any man; but I will add more. You are worthy of her—the blossom of Five Forks!”
As I uttered these words, we reached the gate.
A moment afterward we had entered the grounds, tethered our horses, and were hastening to the house.
XIX. — THE CEREMONY.
On the threshold we were met by Judge Conway, with a bow and a smile.
He pressed our hands cordially, but with a covert sadness, which I suppose comes to the heart of every father who is about to part with a beloved daughter—to give up his place as it were to another—and then we entered the great drawing-room where a gentleman in a white cravat and black coat awaited us. No other persons were visible.
The great apartment was a charming spectacle, with its brilliant lights and blazing fire. The frescoed walls danced in light shadows; the long curtains were drawn down, completely excluding the March air. Coming in out of the night, this smiling interior was inexpressibly home-like and delightful.