She nodded slightly, motionless in his grasp.
“Teresa, darling,” said Dane softly, “I love you truly. I love you with a full heart. It isn’t remorse, and it isn’t pity, and it isn’t friendship... it’s love, Teresa! Look in my eyes, and see if I am speaking the truth?”
But she had no need to look; the music of love was in his voice, and, God knew, she was hungry to be convinced. A year’s suffering had carried her beyond the point of finding content in mere possession, but the knowledge of Dane’s love was a salve which healed all wounds. The “something fine” in Teresa’s nature showed itself at this moment in a generosity of reticence infinitely endearing to the masculine mind. Dane waited shrinkingly to hear Cassandra’s name, but he waited in vain. Teresa asked no questions, demanded no vows,—all that was past, it was buried for ever out of mind, at the moment when for the second time she promised herself to Dane Peignton and felt his kiss of betrothal on her lips.
Chapter Thirty Two.
Teresa’s marriage.
Teresa’s marriage was arranged for the following August, a month which Mrs Mallison appeared to believe was clearly appointed by Providence.
Three months was the shortest interval which could respectably elapse between a funeral and a wedding: three months, taken in conjunction with the date of half-yearly sales, was the period necessary for the preparation of a trousseau; quarter-day falling in September, there would be time to prepare for a removal after the wedding was over. It must be a quiet wedding, of course, very quiet, but white. Certainly Teresa must have a white wedding. It had been talked of so much, her young friends had been asked to be bridesmaids. Papa would not have liked a hole-and-corner affair. Papa dead was an even more convenient Jorkins than Papa living, and, to judge from his widow’s reminiscences, would seem to have entertained strong opinions concerning the weddings of young girls. Simple, of course; quite simple, but a white dress and bridesmaids, and an assemblage of friends. So sweet to be surrounded by loving hearts! And a cold collation. Champagne cup. Handed round after the tea and coffee. Two or three bottles would be ample. “Teresa,” said the widow beaming, “will look beautiful in charmeuse!”
Peignton, like every other prospective bridegroom, would have preferred to be married in an empty church, but Teresa sparkled at the prospect of recovering her prestige in the eyes of the neighbourhood, and it was not for him to refuse her the satisfaction.