His approval spoken, and his blessing given, Captain Hepburn begged to be left alone with Hilary; so Lord Dunsmore led his young betrothed to the next room, and then there followed on his part, such an out-pouring of long-cherished feelings, suppressed and concealed from regard to his brother, as
Gwyneth had little expected to hear; and which she now listened to in wonder, as she thought of the girlish infatuation which had made her blind to his merits, and had just missed making a wreck of her happiness for life.
They talked till twilight came down upon them, and then remembering the world beyond themselves, they wondered to hear no sound or movement in the next room; but fearing to intrude, they waited anxiously, till Maurice returning from a walk, ventured to enter that quiet chamber. All there was still, profoundly still; for Hilary, with her hand clasping the cold fingers of a stiffened corpse, was lying in a death-like swoon beside her husband’s couch.
* * * * *
Three months passed away.
It was autumn again, a beautiful October morning, and the yellow sunshine which fell on the green-sward between the boles of the old trees, like bars of gold, streamed also gladly into the pretty chamber where Hilary, in her widow’s dress, was attiring Gwyneth for her bridal. It was Mrs. Hepburn’s earnest wish that it should not longer be delayed; it had been her husband’s last act to join their hands, and till the union was accomplished, she felt his will was but half fulfilled. “Let it be then,” she said, “that autumn;” and so it was to be; they could not have resisted her calm, sweet request, even had she demanded a sacrifice of them; and when she only bade them be happy, who could say no?
But it was really to be a very quiet wedding; Sybil and her husband came to them; and Lord and Lady Rupert joined the party; that was all; no pomp of gay bridesmaids, only little Nest—no grandeur, no display. Hilary’s weeds were too deep to grace a wedding, too recent to be laid aside even for a day; no one asked her to be present, no one thought of it; but her absence was a blank; it toned down gay spirits, it was the
fennel-leaf in the cup, the skeleton at the feast, the thorn to the rose of love, which else had blossomed so sweetly for the married pair.
Maurice, anxious to remain with his sisters, had applied for an appointment to the Coast Guard; and through the interest of Lord Dunsmore and the Governor of Nova Scotia, just then in England, had obtained his request; and immediately after the marriage, they were to remove to his station, which was at a distance.
Mrs. Hepburn was very glad of the prospect of employment for him; he needed something to occupy his time, and engross his mind; and active as his duties would be, they would not take him from her, which was a blessing. The solitude of their future home was no evil to her; and as to Nest, when old enough to need society, she could go to her other sisters for a time.