“Reflected beauty,” said Phœbe, putting her arm round the bride. “Only reflected beauty, for I never saw you look so pretty, so lovely as you look this morning.”
The Countess smiled a little sadly, but this might only be a woman’s tribute to the importance of the occasion.
“How kind his lordship is! how very kind,” said the bride, as she discovered some new gift on the dressing table.
“It made me cry to hear him speak so earnestly and nobly to-day when your health was proposed,” said Phœbe.
“You are very tender-hearted,” said the Countess, “I did not see any one else look like crying; but the words touched me too. He is a truly generous, warm-hearted man, I am sure.”
Phœbe looked at her friend, as much as to ask her if she had ever doubted it. The Countess read the thought in an instant.
“You think me a strange woman. I have never thought much about his feelings or his heart until lately, Phœbe, and never so much as I have done this morning. It has been all ambition and revenge until to-day, Phœbe; what is it to be in the future?”
She sat down as this thought presented itself to her, and looked at herself in the great mirrors that repeated her supple figure over and over again. She sat and looked at herself, and Phœbe, knowing her secret, crept near her and laid her head upon her shoulders.
“Duty in the future,” said Phœbe softly; “your noble husband’s love and generosity will make you love him in the end I am sure, as he deserves to be loved; the path of duty lies before you and cannot be mistaken.”
“He has long since won my respect, Phœbe, and my gratitude; he loves me with a good man’s truthfulness and sincerity, and I will love him; you know how I have struggled, you know what I have suffered: let us both blot all that part out now and for ever, Phœbe, and as you love me pray that I may be sustained in the wifely path of duty and obedience.”