Once, when a remark like this came to Richard’s ear he smiled quietly and said, “Rosa Lee is beautiful to me, for though her face may lack perfect regularity of features and brilliancy of complexion, she has beauty of a higher order, a beauty of the mind, which is seen in her laughing blue eyes and sunny smile.”
Thus you see, my reader, that Richard thought I was handsome, while strange as it may seem there were others who said so too, and even I was sensible of a thrill of pride, such as I suppose conscious beauties feel, when I stood up before the mirror and saw how well I looked in my bridal dress of satin and lace—his gift, but not the same which he had purchased for me some months before. At first I had proposed wearing the one intended for Dr. Clayton’s bride, but Richard would not suffer it, so I gave it to Lizzy, who, as soon as John Thompson was of age, which would be in January, would probably have need of it! This same John was to be our groomsman and much he amused Richard by telling him of the tall, hateful boy who had once been a terror to a little schoolma’am thirteen years of age, who now, with a heightened bloom upon her cheek and a strange light in her eye, stood waiting the summons to the parlor below. It came at last and as I laid my hand on Richard’s arm he imprinted a kiss upon my lips, “the last,” he said, “he should ever give to Rosa Lee.”
Of what came next I have only a faint remembrance. There was a rustling of satin upon the narrow stair-case, down which Lizzie and I went a little in advance of Richard and John Thompson, the latter of whom said something in a low tone about hoops and the space they occupied! this remark shocked me inexpressibly, but Richard didn’t seem to mind it at all. As we passed the front door, the cool night wind (for it was evening) blew over my face, reminding me of the South, it was so soft and balmy. When we entered the parlor, I was conscious of a goodly number of eyes fixed upon me, and as I crossed over to a vacant spot under the looking glass I heard more than one say in a whisper, “Isn’t she pretty?” meaning Lizzie, I suppose! Then a man, whom I recognized as the new Episcopal clergyman (I believe I’ve never said that Richard was an Episcopalian) stood up before us and said something about “You Richard—and You Rose,” after which Richard placed a ring upon my finger squeezing my hand a very little as he did so. Then followed a short prayer, in which I fancied the minister made a mistake in our names, inasmuch as he spoke of Isaac and Rebecca instead of Richard and Rose! This being done I glanced at the bridegroom. There was no scowl upon his forehead now, and I could see the light shining out all over his face as he bent down and gently whispered “my wife!”
This dispelled the clouds at once, and as guest after guest crowded around, offering their congratulations, while Charlie and John Thompson vied with each other in repeating my new name, I began to realize that I was no longer Rosa Lee, but Mrs. Richard Delafield.
CHAPTER XXXI.
SUNNY BANK.
For a few days we lingered at my mother’s fireside, and then, with the fall of the first snowflake, we left for our southern home; Richard promising my mother, who was loth to give me up, that when the summer birds came back and roses were blooming again by the door, he would bring his Rose to breathe once more the air of her native hills. We stopped at New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington, and it was not until the holidays were passed that we landed at last at Charleston and took the cars for W—— which we reached about dark.
With a loud cry of joy, Bill, who was waiting for us, welcomed back his master, and then almost crushing my fingers in his big black hand, said, with a sly wink, which he meant should be very expressive, “I know, now what mass’r kill dem hosses for!” at the same time making some apology for the really sorry looking animals he was compelled to drive in the place of the deceased Ferdinand and Frederic. As we drove through the town I could not help contrasting my present feelings with those of the year before, when I thought I was leaving it forever. Then, weary, sick and wretched, I had looked through blinding tears towards Sunny Bank, which was now my home, while at my side, with his arm around me, was its owner—my husband.
“You tremble, Rose,” said he, as we drew near the house, and he bade me be calmer, saying the meeting between myself and his sister would soon be over.
But it was not that which I dreaded. It was the presentation to his servants, to whom I bore the formidable relation of mistress, and for whose good opinion I cared far more than I did for that of the haughty Mrs. Lansing. Something like this I said to Richard, who assured me that his household would love me because I was his wife, if for no other reason, and thus I found it to be. As we drove into the yard, we were surprised at seeing the house brilliantly lighted, while through the open windows forms of many persons were seen moving to and fro.
In a displeased tone of voice Richard, said, “It is Angeline’s work, and I do not like it, for you need rest, and are too much fatigued to see any one to-night, but I suppose it cannot be avoided. Ho, Bill,” he called to the driver, “who is here?”