A smile covered her face as she saw him below. Then she placed one tiny foot in front of another tiny foot, and her movement was slow as if in accordance with the music that played in the hall. The man’s heart beat in unison with her step, and a smile of pride covered his face. The crowd stood back, then, as she stopped for a moment, a faint murmur arose, the voices gradually becoming louder, until the air was rent with a roar of approval.
Out into the sunlight they went—the man and the maid, and at the beginning of the garden they entered the car. The bridesmaids threw after them, as they left, old shoes and broken slippers as if they hoped to give a happy augury to their future.
Then the two, lost in the car, looked out of the windows, and they saw the garden fade out of sight. The keeper of the lodge like some old gnome bowed low to the driveway, this time as if an evil spirit possessed him. He seemed to laugh at their youth and their hopes.
The old keeper knew what futility was, for, in his youth he had taken hope in his heart and love in his soul. He, as they, had started down the roseate path, and it had looked to him as it did to them now, as to all the others who had driven through these gates and had come after him with hopes in their hearts and love in their souls. They, as he, had swept up the ashes of their lives upon the hearths of their homes. And the winds of adversity had come and driven them whirling into space. Out of it all they had gathered nothing, nothing remained, except bitterness, age and the certainty of death.
Clarinda saw nothing of this. In her ears the car sang. The power under the hood sang, and the man who drove sang, even the birds flying in the soft sunlight sang madrigals, and the great beams of the sun, as they cut the branches of the trees, seemed to be doing so out of pure love for her and her joy. The man beside her told her of his love—of the thought in him that at last he had arrived at the peak of his life. He told her that she was the one thing that went to complete his happiness. Clarinda trembled with joy and nestled closer and closer to him. Nothing marred the pleasure she felt. She dwelt upon his words he uttered and gloried in the softness of his voice. Clarinda held fast to the things he said and let them sink into her heart.
Mile after mile went by. They talked but little, but he told her again and again of his love, and from time to time he took her gently in his arms and kissed her.
Clarinda forgot everything, except the moment.
Late in the night they came to the front of a huge house, lit from cellar to garret. In front, collected upon the porch, there moved about many servants. The heavy doors were open and the lights from within cut the night as with a two-edged sword. The car stopped. Clarinda got out slowly. They walked hand in hand into the place. Clarinda gave no thought to anything.
They were served and ate a light repast. The clock in the hall struck twelve, the butler yawned and the other servants stood about and let their faces fall into a curious repose. The man arose from his seat. Clarinda passed out of the room. In her dressing-room there was a book, and it was open and as she read the open page a flush came over her face.
III