Look at those saints, and listen to them. They were worn and pallid; they were consumed by a fiery zeal because of this awful tragedy they saw in the perpetually recurring common events of life. They heard for ever that roar of eternity from the other side of the silence of death.
But regarding the natural, of which our author speaks, she is right. The greater number of us are "well-wadded with stupidity," though women are by nature far less so than men. Their view is often distorted and vague; they tremble at shadows, and do not know where to look for the substance which casts them; but the substance is there, nevertheless. They feel the tragedy hidden in common things, whether they can explain it or not. It must be remembered that while man was made of the slime of the earth, woman was formed of flesh; and that the material part which is the veil between her spirit and the outer world has felt twice the refining touch of the Creator's hand.
Is all this too large an à propos to the tears which women are accused of shedding whenever they see a marriage? Think a moment before deciding. Not the happiness or misery of these two alone is in question, but that of an endless line of possible descendants. There is, indeed, no kind of tragedy which may not follow on a marriage.
After this long preamble, we may venture to say that both Mme. Ferrier and Mrs. Gerald were moved to tears at the marriage of their children; the former crying openly and naturally, the latter showing her emotion with that restraint which conventional life imposes. Each understood the other, and was cordially drawn to the other for, perhaps, the first time in all their acquaintance. They stood side by side on the wharf as the steamer which bore the young couple left it, and gazed after their children, who waved handkerchiefs and kisses to them from the deck. A few hours in the steamer would carry them to the city, where they were to take the cars for Niagara. Annette wished to see the falls when the autumn foliage should form a setting for them, and Lawrence had his own reason for liking the place.
"I have the greatest sympathy and affection for waterfalls," he said; "and I would like to live near Niagara. One gets so tired of hearing of rising and aspiring that it is a real relief to see some object in creation that lets things slide, and lays all its cares on the shoulders of gravity. I like to see those green waters just go to sleep and tumble along without troubling themselves. As I remember that river, it looked like melted chrysoprase."
"It is true, my son," the mother had answered, tremulously tender and smiling. "But to let things slide, as you express it, is to go downward."
"And just as inevitably," he rejoined, kissing her, "does my pretty mother find something to moralize about in every random word her worthless son utters."
They were going, then, to Niagara. The steamer threw the waters of the Saranac backward from her prow, and left a snowy wake, like a bridal veil, trailing after her. The sun was going down, and the new moon hung, a crescent of fire, in the cloudless west.
"The new moon is over our right shoulders. Let's wish," said Lawrence. "That is one of my pet superstitions."
The bride shook her head playfully. "Then I must forbid your wishing. We are going to be very good, you know, and not commit the least sin to-day." Seeing a faint shade came over his face at her chiding, she made haste to add: "We will convert this superstition into something good. Fancy Our Lady standing on that crescent, and say an Ave. And since we are making the stars our rosary, we will look for the three magi. Spanish sailors call by that name the stars in Orion's belt. He should be in the east before long. These sailors say that he who sees the three magi is not far from the Saviour. Whenever I see them, and think of it, I make acts of faith, hope, and charity. Will you say them with me to-night?"