It is not my intention to chronicle the events of that foreign tour. Suffice it to say, it came to an end, at last; and, Captain Guy Campbell, Willard Drummond, and his betrothed stood once more upon the shore of their native land.
There was a joyful meeting that day in the parsonage. Good Mrs. Brantwell, as she again clasped her favorite, Sibyl, in her arms, shed tears of joy.
Those twelve months of absence had greatly improved Sibyl. The rich bloom of perfect health again mantled her cheeks; her magnificent eyes, brilliant with hope and happiness, once more outshone her diamonds. Through all the foreign cities through which she had traveled, her dazzling beauty had created the deepest sensation. Known to be an heiress, beauty, and belle, countless hearts had been laid at her feet; but Sibyl never for an instant, in thought or act, was unfaithful to that first, strong, undying love that was part of her very nature.
And now the period of Willard Drummond's mourning was passed, and they had returned home, to be united at last.
How ardently and truly he loved Sibyl now—far better than he had every one before. How proudly he had exulted in the knowledge that this peerless, queenly girl, at whose feet coronets had been laid, and rejected, was his—his alone; would soon be his bride—his wife. How his heart had swelled with triumph when he beheld the envious looks and jealous glances bestowed upon him, by more than one titled nobleman of other lands. He longed, as the blind long for sight, for the time when this glorious, radiant Sibyl would be his own, undisputed wife, beyond earthly power to separate them. Until that time came, he must live in uncertainty, not knowing whether this prize might not yet slip through his fingers.
That time, so ardently looked forward to, was at hand now. Preparations for the wedding were already commenced on a scale of magnificence that was destined to electrify the community far and near, and which the princely fortunes of the bride and bridegroom could alone justify.
The day was appointed, and invitations were sent out to all the elite within fifty miles, to attend the ball, with which it was then customary to conclude a wedding.
Sibyl, with her usual willfulness, would not be married in the house in the evening; it did not seem right, she said. She would be married in the church, in the morning; and, as this was of little consequence to the rest, her wish was immediately acceded to.
On rosy wings sped the time, until the auspicious morning dawned. Brightly and cloudlessly arose the sun, ushering in a day as glorious as ever came out of the heavens. How little did any one dream how darkly and fatally that day was destined to end?
It was arranged that the day following the ceremony the bridal pair should again take their departure for a wedding tour, and everything was prepared accordingly.