“Come, for heaven sake shake off your sadness; be the happy groom upon whom Fortune, fickle jade, has at last consented to smile,” cried Adonis. So, amid laughter and jest, the night passed and the morrow came.
After his guests had departed, Aubrey Livingston went to the telegraph office and sent a message:
“To Jim Titus,
“Laurel Hill, Virginia:—
“Be on hand at the New York dock, Trans-Atlantic Steamship Co., on the first. I will be there to make things right for you. Ten thousand if you succeed the first six months.
“A. L.”
It was noon the next day and the newly wedded stood with clasped hands uttering their good-byes.
“You must not be unhappy, dear. The time will run by before you know it, and I shall be with you again. Meanwhile there is plenty to occupy you. You have Molly and Aubrey to take you about. But pray remember my advice,—don’t attempt too much; you’re not strong by any means.”
“No, I am not strong!” she interrupted with a wild burst of tears. “Reuel, if you knew how weak I am you would not leave me.”
Her husband drew the fair head to his bosom, pressing back the thick locks with a lingering lover’s touch.