It was arranged at first that Norman was to remain at Verelands; but he suddenly discovered that he would like to go to New York, too, on alleged business with his publisher. It was a most flimsy excuse, but it served his purpose, and the next day Verelands was shut up and Norman accompanied Thea, his mother, and her maid northward for the all-important purpose of choosing the bridal robe for his beautiful young love.
“There is one thing you must let me do—that is, invite the Hintons to my wedding. I want to make friends with everybody, now that I am so happy,” coaxed Thea, on her journey.
“They would only accuse you of more inveterate flirting than ever since you have captured such an old fellow as I am,” Norman de Vere returned, laughingly.
“You shall not call yourself old. You seem no older to me than other men—only wiser and handsomer,” answered his frank Sweetheart, and his face glowed with pleasure.
It did indeed seem to him that he had grown younger since Thea West had come back to Verelands in all the charm of her young beauty. Could any boy love her more ardently, or with more keen appreciation of her charms than he did? His heart answered no, and he began to realize that the feeling he had had for queenly, capricious, tormenting Camille had not borne comparison with this later, deeper love.
“She is all the world to me. Pray Heaven her love may make up to me in sunshine for all the shadows of my past,” he thought many times in that happy month, when he laid aside his pen and gave himself up to the pleasure of escorting Thea daily about the modern Babylon, that charmed and frightened the country-bred girl all in one breath, it was so stupendous, and its rush and roar so dreadful to her unaccustomed ears.
“I should feel frightened at even finding myself alone in those busy streets. I believe I should wail aloud like a lost child in mere terror,” she said to him once, with a shiver; and the day came when, all alone in his cruel despair, he thought of her words with a sort of terror, wondering if she had found the reality grievous as the anticipation.
CHAPTER XLVII.
But that happy month came to an end at last, to be followed by still happier ones, for now it was sweet Thea’s bridal-eve, and she was going across the sea with the husband of her choice.
Mrs. de Vere had wished for the wedding to be on as grand a scale as the ball had been, but out of delicacy to Cameron Bentley, who was not yet out of his room, it was arranged more quietly. There was a marriage at church, with cards for the most intimate friends of the family, and a wedding-breakfast for the same. There were many floral decorations, as became the wedding of so fair and youthful a bride, and, to crown the happiness of the generous-hearted girl, all the Hintons had been bidden to the wedding, and two had come—Tom, all curiosity and eagerness over the grand marriage of his former friend, and Emmie, ashamed and repentant over her cruel treatment of Thea, and eager to be forgiven for her folly. Frank had gone to the far West to practice medicine in a rising town, and Mrs. de Vere, who was going to stay at Verelands, made the brother and sister promise to spend a month with her before returning to their Virginia home.