Advancing softly toward her, he was about to lay his hand upon those clustering curls which fell unheeded around her, when the thought that from among them had been cut the hated tress which his mother had cast into the flames, arrested his hand, and he was himself again. Forcing down his emotion, he said, calmly, “Miss Rivers,” and starting quickly to her feet, ’Lena demanded proudly what he would have, and why he was there.
“Pardon me,” said he, as he marked her haughty bearing and glanced at her dress, which was hardly in accordance with that of a bridesmaid; “I supposed I was to be groomsman—am I mistaken?”
“So far as I am concerned you are, sir. I knew nothing of Mabel’s writing to you, or I should have prevented it, for after what has occurred, you cannot deem me weak enough to lend myself to such an arrangement.”
And ’Lena walked out of the room, while Durward looked after her in amazement, one moment admiring her spirit, and the next blaming Mabel for not informing him how matters stood. “But there’s no help for it now,” thought he, as he descended the stairs and made his way into the parlor, whither ’Lena had preceded him.
And thus ended an interview of which ’Lena had thought so much, hoping and praying that it might result in a reconciliation. But it was all over now—the breach was wider than ever—with half-benumbed faculties she leaned on the window, unconscious of the earnest desire he felt to approach her, for there was about her a strange fascination which it required all his power to resist.
When at last all was in readiness, a messenger was dispatched to John Jr., who, without a word, offered his arm to Mabel, and descending the broad staircase, they stood within the parlor in the spot which had been assigned them. Once during the ceremony he raised his eyes, encountering those of ’Lena, fixed upon him so reproachfully that with a scowl he turned away. Mechanically he went through with his part of the service, betraying no emotion whatever, until the solemn words which made them one were uttered. Then, when it was over—when he was bound to her forever—he seemed suddenly to awake from his apathy and think of what he had done. Crowding around him, they came with words of congratulation—all but ’Lena, who tarried behind, for she had none to give. Wretched as she was herself, she pitied the frail young bride, whose half-joyous, half-timid glances toward the frigid bridegroom, showed that already was she sipping from the bitter cup whose very dregs she was destined to drain.
In the recess of a window near to John Jr., Mr. Douglass and Durward stood, speaking together of Nellie, and though John shrank from the sound of her name, his hearing faculties seemed unusually sharpened, and he lost not a word of what they were saying.
“So Nellie is coming home in the autumn, I am told,” said Durward, “and I am glad of it, for I miss her much. But what is it about Mr. Wilbur’s marriage. Wasn’t it rather unexpected?”
“No, not very. Nellie knew before she went that he was engaged to Miss Allen, but at his sister’s request she kept it still. He found her at a boarding-school in Montreal, several years ago.”
“Will they remain in Europe?”