It was not to be expected that Colonel Carlyle would be willing to defer his happiness. He was well-stricken in years, and had no time to spare in idle waiting. He therefore pressed Bonnibel to name an early day for the wedding.
She had no choice in the matter, and allowed him to name the day himself.
Armed with her permission, he consulted Mrs. Arnold in regard to the earliest possible date for his happiness.
Mrs. Arnold, tutored by Felise, was all smiling graciousness, and fully appreciated his eagerness. She thought it quite possible that a suitable and elegant trousseau might be provided for a wedding on the twenty-fifth of June.
[CHAPTER XVII.]
Bonnibel's wedding-day dawned cloudless, fair and beautiful. The sun shone, the flowers bloomed, the birds sang. Nothing was wanting to complete the charm of the day.
Nothing? Ah! yes. The most important thing of all—the light and happy heart that should beat in the breast of a bride was lacking there.
She was beautiful "in gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls," but she looked like a statue carved in marble. No warmth or color tinged the strange pallor of her face and lips, no light of love shone in the violet eyes that drooped beneath the sweeping lashes. She spoke and moved like a soundless automaton.