The death of De Vere did away the necessity of going to England; and Clara now had no desire to outshine the English belles—and the trip was given up. All were glad when Don Manuel told them, if they were willing, he would return to Cuba in the same ship in which they came out, as she would return to Havana.
They all expressed their satisfaction; and Willis was now so much enamored with Francisca, that the Don had but little difficulty in persuading him to accompany them.
Again was Don Manuel and his family on board the good ship Diamante; and with a fresh breeze, and with more pleasure than they had experienced for some time, they bade farewell to the shores of Spain, and were heading for home. Home! in that name there is something that excites pleasant feelings in the breast, no matter how torn by sorrow. Even Clara felt more happiness than she had known since the death of her husband.
It was a bright, star-light evening; the ship was slowly moving through the water, that rippled in small waves around her bows. All was still, silent, and beautiful; and Willis and Francisca were walking up and down the poop quarter-deck, which was untenanted, save by themselves; every thing seemed fitted for love and sentiment, and Willis—but I will not repeat what he said—sufficient is it that he confessed to Francisca the deep, deep love he entertained toward her; and she, happy girl, blushingly, acknowledged that it was reciprocated.
Happy, indeed, was Francisca that night; her day-dream and her night-vision of the last eight months had at last come to pass. Willis loved her, and had acknowledged his passion.
Willis had not intended to mention his feelings to Francisca until after he had spoken to her father. But the stillness of the evening, the fine opportunity, and a something in his heart, he knew not what, had overpowered his resolution, and he yielded to circumstances. He now sought Don Manuel to tell him, feeling as if he had been guilty of a crime; but the kindness with which the old Spaniard listened to him, soothed his agitation; and the cup of his happiness was running over when the old man gave his consent to his marriage.
The rest of the voyage passed away, to Willis and Francisca, like magic; and when the cry of “land ho!” resounded from the mast-head, they could not believe that it was Cuba; but the light-house ere long was visible, and they could doubt the evidence of their senses no longer. For the first time Willis felt really glad to enter the harbor; and the remembrance of his situation, and the manner in which he had left, when last there, added to the pleasantness of his present feelings.
A fortnight after the arrival of the Diamente in port, there was a gay bridal party before the high-altar of the Cathedral, and in the same church he had witnessed the nuptials of Clara and De Vere, now stood Willis, happy and proud, with his heart overflowing with gratitude, waiting to receive the benediction that would make the beauteous, the lovely, the pure, and virtuous being at his side, his own forever; and even as that benediction was being pronounced, he remembered the misery he had felt, when he stood behind the pillar at his right, and witnessed the ceremony of De Vere’s marriage, and felt that he was an outcast, branded, desperate, poor. But his fortune now was changed, the benediction was given, and Francisca, in the sight of God and man, was his for evermore.
Stooping over, he imprinted on her ruby lips the first warm kiss of love he had ever given her; for he respected her so much, and so keenly remembered what he had been, that he avoided every thing he thought could possibly shock her delicacy; and, overwhelmed by the congratulations of his friends, amongst whom none were as loud as the old duenna, the party left the church.
A gay and brilliant assembly there was that night at the mansion of Don Velasquez, crowded by the élite, the young, the fashionable of Havana; but prominent above all the couples in the mazy dance, or stately promenade, for grace and beauty, shone the new bride and bridegroom; and the appearance of perfect contentment and joy that lighted their countenances, added a charm the most lovely, and without which the most perfect features lack beauty.