CHAPTER VCANDLELIGHTAfter supper that evening, when they were leaving the dining-room, Natalia slipped her arm through Judge Houston's, and drew him towards the big salon across the hall."Let's you and I run away from the others for a while," she whispered as they entered the room. "I haven't had any talk at all with you, and if we slip in here and sit over on that old davenport in the corner, they'll never find us, and we can talk, and talk, and talk—like we used to. There is so much that I want you to tell me; so much that I want to tell you."She led him across the highly polished floor, the old gentleman playfully assuming that he might slip."Suppose I should fall, Natalia," he complained; "I never did like these slippery floors. I won't let Maria have them at home.""Lean on me, Uncle Felix," she answered, smiling. "I know it will be difficult for you to do, though—you never leaned on any one in your life, did you? Put your arm through mine and take a step—so. Any one would think we were dancing a minuet or a Virginia reel! But you will dance the quadrille with me at my own wedding, won't you, Uncle Felix? Now!" she ended, landing him safely on the deep sofa."The time is coming, Natalia, when I must lean on some one all the time," the old gentleman sighed. "It isn't very far off, either. Do you know, I find myself deferring to Maria for the smallest things, and when not Maria—it is Sargent.""Sargent Everett," Natalia repeated after him, piling some cushions on the horse-hair upholstery so that the old gentleman would lean back comfortably. Then she pushed a small stool before the sofa, and sat down upon it, resting her chin in her hand while the other one lay across his knee. "Sargent Everett," she said again thoughtfully. "That is one of the things I want you to tell me, Uncle Felix—all about him."The late twilight of the warm June day still glowed through the windows. The whispering of the birds as they sought shelter for the night in the magnolia grove floated in to them, lending a potent charm to the quiet surroundings. Judge Houston did not answer at once, and in the long silence that widened between them, he felt for a while that almost any words would jar the contentment of the moment. Occasionally his hand moved across Natalia's hair—a touch so gentle and loving that she wondered if her father would have meant more to her than this dear old man."There is so much to tell," he began at last, "and I would gain so much pleasure in the telling that you would fall asleep long before I was half through. Indeed, Natalia, Sargent is making these last days of my life very happy, for in his success I seem to get a pleasure so deep that at times I imagine his triumphs are my own."Natalia moved restlessly, as if to rise, then sank back on the stool again."Why is it that every one I meet seems to worship him?" she murmured, half complaining. "You have always loved him more than me—yes, you have, dear Uncle Felix, and now, when I come back home, I find Dicey is his slave—and willingly, too. He has stolen the love of you both from me. I am growing very, very jealous of him. Do you know, Uncle Felix, Dicey says she will not leave him, but I believe she will, don't you?""I did not know you had seen her. Was she here to-day?""No. I went to her.""At Sargent's house—to-day?""Yes, that is where I was all the afternoon. He was not there. Dicey said he was out of town on some political tour. Tell me about him, Uncle Felix—it has been years and years since I heard from him or about him. Occasionally I have seen articles in the papers about his speeches. Are they so wonderful? Have you some of them that I could read?"Judge Houston's eyes glowed with the enthusiasm that was always in them when he spoke of Sargent, nor did Natalia miss the sudden quickening of interest and kindling of energies that so obviously manifested his devotion."His speeches are remarkable works of beauty and construction, but they are nothing in comparison with his delivery. It always saddens me when I think of his future reputation—when he goes down in history—as he surely will—for people will not realize half his power in reading his speeches; his magnetism, his charm, his force that holds one spellbound in listening—all that will be lost to the next generation, and it is that, more than anything else, that has made him remarkable. I took out my watch one day to see how long he would take for a certain speech, and I found myself at the end of the speech still holding the watch in my hand, entirely forgotten.""Then the years have brought him success," Natalia reflected. "I remember his great ambition, and a phrase of his—'I want to show the world that because a man is a cripple he can still be a great man.'"The Judge bowed his head, enthusiastically "My one great hope is that I shall live to hear his voice sounding in the walls of the Capitol at Washington. It will, too, one of these days.""Tell me about his success," Natalia said leaning back comfortably against his knees."It is a long, long story, Natalia, and would weary you in the telling. It began when you were here. Don't you remember the trial of Phelps? That started him on the upward path, and it also had a much deeper significance than the world ever supposed. When he had convicted Phelps it troubled him so that he went to the jail with the object of releasing the fellow. Fortunately for Sargent Phelps never knew his intention, and killed himself and ever since then Sargent has defended any and every criminal that comes to him. He calls it his life-work—saving men so as to give them another chance. After that case, he was sent to the Legislature and now we are going to send him to Congress—the election takes place this week. After that he says he is coming back here and settle down in his home and be content to practise criminal law, which he has made his special work. Some day, when you meet him, get him to tell you about his theory in regard to it; it is beautiful.""When I meet him," Natalia reflected softly. "It seems that I shall not see him again, Uncle Felix; and yet, do you know, this place is not the same to me as it used to be, and I believe that it is because he is not here. In some way he seems to be very closely woven into all the impressions of my childhood—he and Dicey." Suddenly she turned and looked up into the old man's face. "Uncle Felix, Dicey told me that he always talked of the time when I should come back to him. Is it really so? Did he think that?"Judge Houston leaned back, so that the protecting shadows would betray no expression on his face. It was too late now for her to know. He would tell her nothing that would in any way tinge her happiness with a shade of sadness or regret. When he answered her, his voice was steady, almost gay, in an attempt at carelessness."That was a dream of mine, Natalia. You and he were dearer to me than any others in the world. It was only natural that I should have hoped that you two might have loved each other. But you see," he sighed in mock despair, "I am carrying out the words of the prophet—'your old men shall dream dreams'—and I am a very old man, Natalia. I shall be seventy-six my next birthday.""Seventy-six years," Natalia repeated, absently, wondering over the reason for his not replying to her question. Could it be that what Dicey said was true? She hurriedly drove the doubt from her thoughts, for a strange fear had suddenly crept into her consciousness—the fear that her great happiness might come to her through the suffering of another. With the intuitive perception she rose from her stool with a start. The room had become totally dark; only the light from the hall threw a faint shaft into the room.She groped her way to the tall black marble mantel, over which hung the portrait of her mother, and lit the two seven-branched candlesticks. Going back to the stool, she sat down as before, resting her face in her hands and gazing at the portrait.In the soft glow of candlelight the room looked enormous. The vista made by the two mirrors at each end and directly opposite to each other created a perspective that was without limit in its repeated reflection. The portrait gained a semblance of life from the deep shadows and high lights, and looked down from its gorgeous gilt frame on the crimson damask upholstery and rosewood carvings, with the affection that years of association had created. The gleaming mahogany floor gathered into its embrace the reflection, and in the subdued light and the strange fragrance of passed years breathing life into the speechless objects, Natalia felt that she was growing nearer to what it all represented to her than she had ever been before."Seventy-six years," she said again thoughtfully. "How beautiful to grow old as you have done, Uncle Felix. Nay, is it growing old? It seems to me that with you and Aunt Maria it has been a gradual growing nearer to a beautiful future life—a gentle approach towards God. I wonder if I shall grow old that way, or die in the heyday of my youth and happiness—as my mother did. To think that I never knew her," she sighed, when she had looked a long time at the portrait. "And now when I seem to think of her most, when I feel that I need her—she is gone. Can there be a greater loss to a girl than not to know a mother? And I shall never know what it is! Sometimes it makes me very sad when I realize there is no one from whom I can claim anything—no one to whom I can go and demand things because of the ties of blood. Even you and Aunt Maria are really no kin—are not tied except by love."The old man leaned forward and turned her face towards him."Could any ties be stronger than those of love?" he smiled into her eyes."I know, dear Uncle Felix," she pressed his hands as she answered, "but the tie of blood is a very wonderful thing. It makes me feel so dreadfully lonely at times, to know that you, that Morgan, that every one is doing for me not because they ought to, but because they love me—perhaps pity me. Probably I express myself badly, and yet—you must know what I mean. It is lack of thatrightto lean on some one for help and protection, and feel that you are only demanding of him what it is his duty to give. That is what I expect my marriage to bring me."Judge Houston leaned nearer to her, intently watching the changing expressions that played across her face, and which seemed to gather brilliancy from the portrait towards which she looked. His eye wandered from the painted face to the living reproduction, then back again—and between them there rose before him his old bridge of dreams—dreams which the last month had shattered. Again he felt an almost overwhelming desire to tell her of that dream which was but the reflection of the dream of another; if it were only possible to let her know of the plans and talks and hopes that he and the other one had made their guiding star for years! But he could not—his duty to her kept him silent, and in her love he realized the hopelessness of his own desires.Then in the more than three-score years of calm restraint and self-denial, his deep affection for the man who had become his son rushed over him and made him speak."Natalia," he hurried over the words, "there is something I want to know—from your own lips.""You can ask me anything, Uncle Felix." She turned her face towards him with the frankness of a child. "I have no secrets that I would not tell you."His hand rested on her shoulder while he searched her eyes."How great is your love for Morgan Talbot?"Natalia met his eyes seriously for a few moments; and then she laughed softly."What a question, Uncle Felix, and particularly when it comes from you! How great is my love for the man I am going to marry? Do you know me so little that you deem such a question necessary?""No. But I know you so well that I know that you will tell me the truth—that is, if you answer me seriously."Gradually the smile faded into a pensive expression, and Natalia turned slowly back to where the gleaming portrait held her attention again."How great is my love," she murmured as if in self-questioning. "How great is my love? Why, Uncle Felix, how do I know how great it is? What is there for me to compare it to?"The old man leaned towards her, and though her face was turned from him when he spoke, she felt that there was something left unsaid behind his words."Is this the first time you have loved? Is there nothing that went before, by which you can judge?""No, nothing." Natalia turned and searched his eyes for the hidden meaning. "I have never been in love before, unless—" her face flushed slightly as she found his meaning, "unless it were my old admiration for Sargent Everett. But then I was too young to know."Judge Houston leaned back once more into the protecting shadows of the wall, it had come at last he sighed to himself, and she had been the first to mention it."And is this love that you now feel, like the first?""No." She shook her head, her face saddening sweetly. "No. I adored Sargent Everett. It was worship. A girl only has that experience once in life; fortunately it came to me early and I outgrew it. But I remember it painfully well. It is the sort of feeling that one must have who bows down and worships a god, and sees that god returning his affection—can there be any sensation more wonderful! And all the incidents of our association naturally added a picturesqueness that impressed my childish imagination, coloured it, and made his image sink very deep upon mv mind. This morning when I went out to the old bench under the magnolias where he and I used to sit, I actually felt a return of my old love for him. I actually forgot Morgan for the moment!" She ended with a happy laugh."Tell me then," Judge Houston asked after a pause. "How does this other love differ from the first?"She clasped her hands in her lap and leaned back against the sofa, her eyes half closed in meditation. Finally, with a graceful movement, she put out her hand and drew the old man's into hers."My love for Morgan," she began slowly. "How can I ever describe it! It did not come to me suddenly—it was more the outgrowth of association—a drifting into it without realization. Is it not always that way?" She lifted her face towards the old man intently, and found him looking down at her with a sad expression that she did not understand."You say you found it that way?""Yes, Uncle Felix," Natalia answered gayly. "Now please don't upbraid me for not falling in love at first sight. You know such things don't happen nowadays. I first met Morgan at the boarding school where Mamma Brandon sent me. Millicent was there with me at the time, and through our friendship I began to hear stories of her beautiful brother whom she described as the acme of all that was handsome and brave and wonderful. You must remember we were only twelve then. It is rather a strange thing, now, as things have eventuated, that I used to answer all her descriptions of Morgan with effusions about Sargent Everett. Then I met him. You can see the impression he would be likely to make upon a lonely little school-girl away from the few people who had ever loved her. Naturally the absent scene faded as the years passed, and I found myself living only in the world about me—a world filled with all the interests of the school and my broadening education, and made a place of enchantment to me by the kindness and affection of Morgan's family. They made me one of them. And when the day of real freedom came, when I left school to enter the world, with the enormous accretions from my plantations which you and Mamma Brandon had so skilfully managed for me—everything was perfect. Ah, it was beautiful! That first year of my real life. I can remember exactly my sensations the night I made my debut. We went to the opera first to hear Jenny Lind sing, and afterwards there was a big ball. I carried a beautiful bouquet of lilies of the valley—oh, Uncle Felix, it was gorgeous! That was two years ago. Since then, you know how I have travelled, how I spent a year in Europe, losing myself in the shadows of all that historic past, all that overpowering procession of events that has left its monuments for us to wonder over.... Those were carefree days, happy and thoughtless, with no suspicion of a to-morrow, and in them, with me—for long periods of travel—was Morgan—always faithful, always attentive, always an ideal lover. I never thought of marrying him then—at least never seriously, until I came back from Europe, and found that the same things that filled my life before amused me no longer. I was tired of playing, Uncle Felix, I had played too much. Something within called me to the great problems of life—I felt that I wanted to be in touch with people whose lives were amounting to something, who were doing good in the world and helping others. I seemed to realize then, for the first time, that I was drifting along in a happiness that would bring me nothing in the future, and I saw myself in my old age, when my youth and freshness and beauty were all gone, as a little child, without any one dependent upon me for their happiness. I think it was that, Uncle Felix," and she drew his hand gently to her cheek, "that opened my eyes to Morgan's love. He was there, waiting to give me a protection and haven from that awful lonely future. And I thought of you and Aunt Maria growing old together so beautifully, and I know now, Uncle Felix, that Morgan and I shall do the same.... When I have a child, Uncle Felix, think how everything that has gone before will be as nothing! When I have one that is mine, a part of me—that is what will make my life divine!" Suddenly she put her hands up to his face and kissed him. "Forgive me! Forgive me! I did not mean to wound you. I did not mean to thrust my happiness at you—so."There were tears in the old man's eyes as she talked on, lost in her own narration, and when she looked up at him again, they were streaming down his cheeks, she rose from the stool and slipped on to the sofa beside him, pulling his arm around her waist, so that her face lay close against his, with the silence deepening between them."Uncle Felix," she began again, after having risen and carefully snuffed the candles on the mantel. "I have never told any one what I have told you to-night; indeed, there was no one to tell—not even Morgan. It was my thought of you and this dear old place that made me wish to solemnize my marriage here. It may be the last time I shall ever be here, at least for many, many years; yet now that I have come back, and all the past has rushed over me with all its old charm and fascination—I feel that I should like to remain here always. There is something so protected and safe here—an aloofness from the world that would save one from almost every suffering. But of course it is impossible." She stirred restlessly. "Already Morgan is growing impatient, and wants to get back to the rush and stir of a city." She rose and with both hands pulled the old gentleman up after her. "Let's go back to the others now. But first—I may never have the chance to speak to you of it again—tell Sargent Everett of my deep affection for him still—tell him that I shall always be grateful for his having made me a very happy little girl, and that the only thing that marred my happiness on my wedding day was his absence. Now, let's go back to Morgan."CHAPTER VIHIS WEDDING PRESENTThe wedding day came—a beautiful day, filled with the glory of June sunshine, warm, sweet, brilliant—bringing in its perfection omens of great happiness.The old home gained in beauty as the grove about it grew heavily laden with the honeyed fragrance of the magnolia blossoms, and the deep green leaves became even more varnished and glistening. The cool shadows and the topaz patches of sunlight mingled upon the tall columns; the red-tiled roof glowed as if with an understanding of its responsibility that day.Natalia rose in the early morning and passing through the hall, where already there were signs of much stirring and preparation, went out into the garden. It was still very early. The first smoke from the quarters was curling lazily upward, and from the barn came the tinkling sound of bells as the cows were led into the pens for milking; and all through the atmosphere, insistent and penetrating, was that indefinable, vibrating sound of nature awakening in the early morning.The garden greeted her with a burst of bloom, veiled timidly in its protection of dew. She lifted her face to the soft air, and breathed the delicious fragrance of the honeysuckle. Everything was perfect to her at this moment. She looked through the eyes of one to whom the world has become a consummation of ideals.She lingered beside the pomegranate bush, smiling as she vainly sought for the jay-bird's nest that she had found there when a child; then she strolled on into the depths of the grove. How fortunate she was, she reflected, as her eyes lingered on all her surroundings, to have this quiet, beautiful spot in which to solemnize the marriage that was to bring her completeness. How perfect that her honeymoon should be spent in the surroundings that her mother and father had known at such a time. In each detail she imagined she could discover some preference of theirs; in the quiet and aloofness of the early morning she felt intuitively that they were with her.The sound of a step behind her made her turn quickly, a quick frown at the interruption changing instantly into a smile of happiness, for Morgan had seen her from his window and followed her."It is our wedding day, sweetheart," he said when he had reached her and put his arm about her. "Our wedding day—think of it! May I be the first to kiss you on such an important day?"Natalia looked up at him thoughtfully, dwelling with a tender glance upon his bright, manly face and fair hair. In the morning brilliance he shone resplendent, catching, as if by natural attraction, all the beauty and freshness of the day in his brilliant colouring and deep blue eyes."Is it such an important day?" Natalia answered softly. "I sometimes wonder if marriage is not an anticlimax. The greatest moment to me was when I realized that I loved you. Nothing will ever equal the joy of that—not even our wedding.""That is a girl's way of looking at it," Morgan laughed easily. "With a man it is quite different. You see, dear, he fears so that the girl might change her mind, that he is not really happy and satisfied until she actually belongs to him.""There you go, Morgan." Natalia looked away, answering his smile half-heartedly. "Joking when I am serious. But it is very fortunate, I suppose. I should always see the serious side of life if it were not for you. I am so glad that we are different, dear. You see—we are antidotes. You correct my seriousness—I sober your lightheartedness."Morgan looked at her curiously."Yet you can be as gay as I, Natalia. You were so at school; you were on our long voyage together. It is only since we have been engaged that you have changed. What is it? Are you not entirely happy?""Of course I am—the happiest woman in the world! Only I feel my happiness differently from you. It is a more serious thing to me. It's my nature, I suppose. I've been trying all my life to let people know how happy I was, and even when in my most melancholy spells I found a certain quiet peace, I had to appear gay to keep others from thinking I was miserable. It's a trick of mine, to hide my real feelings, I suppose. We're all acting, anyhow, don't you think so?""No, I'm not," Talbot smiled down at her gayly. "I honestly believe I am as nearly frank as people get. I never could hide my emotions, and I've never yet learned to control my anger.""How dreadfully you frighten me, Morgan." Natalia frowned in assumed fear. "Suppose you should get angry with me—would you treat me very badly? Would you whip me?" She laughed outright. "Dicey says there used to be an old farmer here who whipped his wife every Saturday night because he said it was the only way a man could make a woman respect him. And she also says that when the man was sent to jail for stealing his neighbour's cow, that his wife would go with him. Such a case makes one ponder, doesn't it, Morgan, as to which is the right way to hold another's love?""I'll never treat you that way, Natalia, because," and he hesitated, half-serious, "I'm almost afraid of you at times—when your eyes grow very black and the colour fades out of your face. I don't know whether it is anger, or what. It makes you wonderfully beautiful, though.""I know—it is when I'm very intense. It's when my Spanish blood is aroused. Sometimes I have felt that I was acting without my own volition—that some one else, a new nature within me, was compelling me on to something I was helpless to combat. I will tell you about it some day, but not this morning. I've determined to let nothing mar our happiness to-day. But I have a request to make," she ended tentatively."Anything in the world—you have only to name it," Morgan replied promptly, swinging her hand in his, to and fro, like a happy schoolboy."Do you know, sir," Natalia began, with mincing manner and chiding voice, "that you spent all of yesterday afternoon and the one before, away from me—and worst of all—with Mr. Jervais!"Morgan's face showed his evident surprise."You don't mean to tell me, Natalia, that you objected to that! Certainly you didn't want me to stay here all the time listening to you women folks discuss trousseaux and wedding cakes!"Natalia smiled at him silently."That must be a very attractive place—that Mansion House," she commented archly."The tavern! What do you know about it?""Uncle Felix told me how popular you were there—how many friends you had made already. It doesn't take a very lively imagination to picture the poker games there, for I've heard of them ever since I could remember. There were great old days, then, and still are, I fancy, if you men would only tell about it. But, seriously, Morgan, don't go this afternoon. Promise me."Morgan's face had clouded as she ended, and slipping his arm around her he led her towards the bench on the brow of the hill."Listen, Natalia," he said, when they had sat down. "Something happened yesterday which I did not want you to know. Now, I see I had best tell you. Lemuel Jervais and I got into a pretty reckless game of poker all the afternoon. Towards the end I think he must have reached the limit of his ready resources, for when every one had withdrawn and he and I were sticking it out, he said he was going to pay me in slaves, if he lost. You know my feelings in regard to slavery. So when it came to that, I threw down my hand and said I was not gambling for human beings!" Morgan dropped his hands between his knees and stared before him in silence. "It was all rather unfortunate, but I suppose couldn't be helped," he continued. "What makes it a little embarrassing to me is that Jervais insisted that I should go back again to-day and finish the game.""But you didn't agree to it, did you?" Natalia exclaimed."What else could I do?" Morgan answered rather gloomily. "He is my host and yours, and would take offence—particularly as I have been the winner all along. Besides, it wouldn't do not to go for a little while. Do you know what I've decided to do?" he added, bright again. "I'm going to let Jervais win rather heavily, and then suggest that we come back here."Natalia met his brightness only half-way."I suppose you will have to do it, but youwillcome back soon?""You have my word for it.""Well, then, I suppose I'll have to be contented." Natalia smiled again. "But after to-day, when everybody has gone away, and Brother Joel and Millicent are on their way to New Orleans, and we shall be here all alone—you must not let a single thing, no matter how great, take you away from me. Just you and I—all alone! I've planned each day—almost every moment!"They strolled a little way down the hill, to where the ground rolled precipitately to the river. The opposite shore was still grey and misty with the retreating night, and over the stretch of wilderness hung a blue veil of mystery."The Indians call it 'The Land of the Setting Sun,'" Natalia said, looking out before her. "Poor wild creatures! It seems the only land left them now. To me it always seemed the future. One thinks one sees it, yet it is all vague and unknown.""That is not the way with our future, though," Morgan replied, gathering Natalia in his arms. "Ours is neither vague nor unknown. This day is a symbol of what it is to be. It will be only happiness," he kissed her, "happiness—and happiness again!"The day deepened in beauty as the hours passed, and all the while elaborate decorations were being arranged throughout the house. Many friends came, bringing wagon loads of trailing vines and ferns and wild hydrangeas. Festoons of Southern smilax were twined about the columns and draped from one to the other, so that the old house looked gay and youthful, as it had many years ago; and along the veranda, tables were placed on which stood tall crystal globes protecting the candles which were to illumine the place at nightfall; and along the balustrade of the upper balcony was a row of candles which encircled the house, and would make it a blaze of glory.In the grove hundreds of transparences were hung high among the thick foliage, vying with the white blossoms in doing honour to the occasion; two big piles of brush were placed far out on the road beyond the gate, which were to be set ablaze in the evening and light the late arrivals on their way.Within, the large salon was heavy with the odour of gardenias. The walls were covered with the fragrant blossoms and from the corners of the ceiling to where the bronze chandelier swung with its hundred and fifty candles, garlands of ivy were draped. Across the hall, the dining-room floor was waxed until Zebediah pronounced it too slippery for any one to stand upon, much less attempt dancing. Even the library was thrown open, a thing never done before in entertaining, and all the wedding presents displayed there—presents that brought smiles and tears to Natalia, for in many of these gifts she realized that the friends of her parents were parting with their heirlooms to do her honour. There were priceless pieces of Sevres china; a huge punch bowl of Bohemian glass, the sides cut in broad panels which showed layers of rose and cream; candlesticks in bronze and brass and silver; many pieces of Sheffield plate and silver that had come to America with its early settlers; and, causing more trouble and amusement than all the other presents, a magnificent peacock sent by old Mrs. Buckingham, which thought its special duty was to make the air ring with hideous cries.In the late afternoon Natalia went down the stairs on the back veranda to inspect the last touches that Mrs. Jervais and Mrs. Houston were giving the supper table. The veranda had been enclosed the whole length in osnaburgs, and a long table extended from one end to the other, literally groaning under the weight of appetizing delicacies.Already the front of the house was gay with the people who had driven many miles to the wedding, and whose carriages and wagons were encamped without the gates awaiting the return to them in the early morning; for it was the custom of those days to spend the entire night in jollification, the fiddlers never resting their bows until the sunlight clashed with candle-light."Oh, Natalia, look at those nougat pyramids! Aren't they dreams!" Millicent cried. "I know they must be six feet high.""They were made in New Orleans," commented Mrs. Jervais, proudly, following the two girls as they moved down the table inspecting everything."Won't it be a pity to break them? But of course every one will want a souvenir to take home. Natalia, I think you ought to keep one whole in memory of the day. And there's the wedding cake! In five terraces! Isn't it beautiful? Where in the world did you get it, Mrs. Houston?"Mrs. Houston's eyes lit up with enthusiasm."I made every bit of it myself. It took the whites of fifty eggs!""What on earth did you do with the yelks?" exclaimed Millicent, dumbfounded."Is there nothing I can do?" Natalia said, putting her arms about the old lady, and kissing her cheek. "How good you all are to me! I seem to grow happier every moment—"The clang of the door-bell broke on her unfinished words, and in the next moment a servant had entered with a note. Natalia took it from the salver, and glanced at the address, drawing her brows together, as if in recollection. The others waited silently impatient."Do open it, Natalia," Millicent cried. "Iknowit's another wedding present. Won't you read it aloud?"Natalia still held the note in her hand, thoughtfully regarding it."I'm trying to remember whose writing it is. It's very familiar. Oh, I know now! It's Sargent Everett's."She tore open the envelope, letting it fall to the floor as she hurriedly read the note. When she looked up again, the tears were streaming down her face."He has sent me the most precious wedding present in the world," she cried with a sob in her voice. "He has given Mammy back to me!"She ran through the dining-room, and down the full length of the hall, and out on to the front porch, throwing herself into the old slave's arms."He has given you to me, Mammy! He has given you to me! You're mine—you dear old Mammy Dicey! Come on upstairs to my room, and tell me all about it. Mammy, I'm getting everything in the world to-day. Isn't it wonderful? And now you've come back to me!"She pulled the old woman up the steps beside her, and into the big room where they had spent many hours together.It was about dusk, and the room was in the quiet gloom of twilight. Natalia locked the door after they had entered, and pushing a big arm chair close beside the bed, she led Dicey who stood in the centre of the room, dazed into forgetfulness by the familiar objects about her, to it, and made her sit down while she threw herself on the bed and drew the old slave's hands into both her own."It's like old times, isn't it, Mammy? Just exactly like it used to be—you there beside me when I went to sleep. Oh, Mammy, I'm so happy! I want to cry just a little like I used to, and you hold my hand and pat it and sing to me,—very soft and low, ah! now!"And with the light gently fading from behind the bowed blinds, and the room sinking into darkness, the old slave chanted softly, with the tears streaming down her furrowed cheeks:"Whar, oh, whar am de Hebrew chillun,Whar, oh, whar am de Hebrew chillun,Whar, oh, whar am de Hebrew chillun,Way ober in de promis' lan'."CHAPTER VIITHE HOUR OF THE WEDDINGEvening closed about the old home; the candles in the garden began to glimmer and throw a fairylike glow through the shrubbery; the two great bonfires on each side of the gate were lighted and illumined the road for near a mile. Carriages began rolling up to the front door and discharging their elaborately costumed occupants. The sound of laughter and merry voices floated up in waves, and in the distance came the wail of fiddles being tuned.Suddenly a rap sounded on the door; the sanctuary of the two reunited women was broken."Natalia! Natalia! All the guests are arriving," Millicent called in an excited voice. "Have you begun to dress? Do let me in! It's scandalous for them to be so late!"Natalia sprang from the bed and hurried to the door."Is it really late?" she exclaimed, as Millicent burst into the room. "I hadn't an idea time was flying so. Mammy and I had gone back years and years, and forgotten everything. Is Morgan ready?""Ready! I should think not!" Millicent answered. "Do you know, neither he nor Joel nor Mr. Jervais have come back yet; and they have been gone for hours. Mrs. Houston sent the Judge in an hour ago to bring them back. It's perfectly dreadful for them to behave like this, and I intend to tell them so as soon as they come!"Natalia listened calmly, then turned away to hide the anxiety in her eyes."They will be here before we know it," she answered, after a little while, forcing a smile to her lips."I suppose they became interested in some discussion and forgot all about the time. Just like men! But do hurry, Millicent, and come back as soon as you can to help me dress. Now, Mammy," she turned back to Dicey, stopping a moment to survey herself in the cheval glass. "Are you going to help make me very beautiful to-night? I believe I'll wear my hair like I used to. It's dreadfully unfashionable now, but I believe it's becoming."She sat down in the chair, and unloosening her hair, let it fall in waves about her. Clasping her hands tight in her lap, she looked steadily before her the anxiety creeping back into her eyes. All the while Dicey watched her closely. In the old woman's eyes the strange look had come again. It was burning brilliantly now."I wish he had come sooner. I wish—" Natalia lifted her head resolutely—"I mean platted in a crown, Mammy, like you did it when I was a little girl. Have you forgotten how?""No—I hain't fergit.""Then you arrange it for me, and I'll wear the daisies in it that you brought me. Won't that be fetching? I'll sit very still, Mammy, while you fix it. Do you remember," she laughed plaintively, "how I used to wriggle and fidget when you would do it that way?"Dicey did not move toward her. Shaking her head firmly she only stared."I won't fix hit dat way fer yer," she suddenly burst out. "I won't! I won't!""Why, Mammy, don't you think it's becoming?""I won't fix hit dat way 'cause he allus said he lak hit dat way."Natalia looked at her bewildered."But Morgan never saw me wear it that way. How could he know?""I don' mean him. I means Marse Sargent."Natalia broke into a merry laugh and drew the old woman's face down to her own."You dear—old—foolish—Mammy! Of course I didn't know you were talking about Sargent Everett. Besides—what difference does he make now? I believe you were teasing me about him, anyhow. If he thought so much of me he would have come to my wedding."Dicey shook her head unconvinced."Is dat all de larnin' yer done pick up in yer trabbelin', honey? Hit's 'cause he lubs yer so dat he cyant b'ar seein' yer marryin' anoder man. Dat's hit, honey-chile."Natalia narrowed her eyes a moment; then smiled, a little wistfully."You are entirely too wise, Mammy. Sometimes I almost fear you. You are trying to make me unhappy on my wedding night, by telling me my happiness is breaking another's heart. You know it isn't really so—now is it, Mammy?"Dicey's face was turned away from Natalia as she moved about the room, pulling down the shades and lighting the candles. Twice she opened her lips to speak, then closed them tight and went on. Suddenly she stopped and went back to Natalia."Yer is breakin' his heart—yer is—yer is. Yer tole him yer wuz gwine come back ter him an' yer ought ter done hit. Yer know yer ought to—cause yer done pledge yerself ter him." Her face was close to Natalia's as she whispered the words, and involuntarily the girl drew back, startled. The intensity of the old woman's eyes was ominous. The next moment Natalia rose from her chair and faced her."Mammy, you are trying your best to make me miserable. I never thought it of you. You have lost all your love for me for your new master. Because you love him so, you think every one must—but I do not—do you hear, Mammy? I don't love him one bit any more; he doesn't love me either. It's all your imagination! And if you don't stop talking about him, I'm going to send you right back to him!"Natalia's voice was calm, but her eyes flashed into the old woman's, speaking her anger. In another moment Dicey was on her knees with her arms about her."Fergive me! honey-chile, I didn' mean nothin'!" she cried. "I lubs yer more'n ennybody in de worl', but I cyant help er feelin' kinder perturbed 'bout pore Marse. Yer hain't gwine sen' me erway, will yer? Say yer won', honey, 'cause he'll be powerful mad wid me ef he knows I'se done made yer mad. I'll do yer ha'r anyway yer says ef yer'll only say yer hain't gwine sen' me erway."Natalia's anger went as it had come. The next moment she was seated before the mirror, with Dicey brushing and platting her hair."We always did quarrel, Mammy," she laughed happily again. "I suppose it proves our love, don't you? But it does make me so jealous to find you loving somebody more than you do me," she added, reflectively. "It really is odd how he makes people love him," glancing at Dicey's enigmatic face reflected in the mirror. "I'm talking about your master, Mammy. I see now that I have lost your love entirely. But if he does for others as he has done for me, I do not wonder at it," she sighed. "Who else would have thought of sending you to me for a wedding present?""Eberybody do lub him," Dicey rejoined, her eyes once more sparkling with her enthusiasm of the subject. "An' de young ladies—yer ought ter see how dey turns out in dere fine kerridges, all rigged up in finery and foolishness, when he's gwine ter speak. Dey all jes' makes sheep eyes at him all de time, an' he neber takes no notice ob none ob dem.""That's your way of seeing him, Mammy. I'll wager he's in love with half a dozen girls this very minute. Now begin putting in the daisies, please. Yes, three at a time. Honestly, now, Mammy, crossing your heart and body, you don't think he is as handsome as Morgan, do you?""I neber did lak bloo eyes," Dicey answered firmly. "'Specially when dey is light bloo.""But his are not light blue. They are very dark and beautiful. Wait until you see him close. Now, my wedding dress, Mammy. Isn't it a dream?" Natalia went to the sofa where the wedding finery was displayed. "I brought it all the way from Paris last year. You see, Mammy, it has three skirts.""Lawdy 'bove us!" cried Dicey, touching the gown gingerly. "Hit's got sho' nuff leabes on hit, hain't hit?""Yes, they are arbour-vitae leaves. Millicent has been sewing them on, all day. The design represents the walls of Troy. You know all about that, don't you, Mammy?" she laughed merrily. "You see there is a border on each flounce, and on the waist, too. I saw the Princess Amèlie wear one just like it. Now call Millicent, Mammy, for she will have to help me get into it. And Aunt Maria, too, and ask Mrs. Jervais to bring the jewel box."Left alone, Natalia peered through the closed blinds into the yard below. From the lights and moving figures, she turned her eyes towards the heavens. There, too, the stars shone in a gay brilliance."My wedding night!" She whispered happily. "My wedding night!" She turned away from the window with a strange new excitement rushing over her. Her eyes grew deep black, glowing with intensity. Her face became flushed with a gorgeous colour.Millicent burst into the room, completely arrayed. "How do I look, Natalia? Do you like the ribbon here, or there? It's so dreadfully hard to decide. Would you believe it—those hateful men have not come yet! I don't believe this ribbon is the right colour, after all. Do you suppose anything has happened to them?"Natalia looked quickly towards the clock."It's only half after seven. The ceremony is at eight," she said slowly—then eagerly, "Perhaps they have come and you didn't know it.""No, I have just come from Morgan's room, and he is not there. But youmustdress, Natalia," Millicent urged, picking up the wedding gown. "Here—get into this, while I help you. Aren't you glad the leaves look fresh? They are as green as if they had just been picked. Can't you see the girls wondering if they are real? And the wedding bouquet—it's wonderful! Mrs. Houston has just been telling me how it was made. She says she took a stick and covered it with green silk, then she laid sprays of cedar, fan shape, all over that, then in the centre she sewed the cape jessamines, all real close together. It's the most beautiful bouquet I ever saw!" Millicent ended breathlessly.Natalia made no comment. She stood silently docile while the gown was fastened."It is very strange that he should do this way," she murmured to herself, "and he promised me— Perhaps their carriage broke down on the way out!" she exclaimed. "It must be something like that!"Mrs. Jervais entered the room, her face beaming her approval upon Natalia. In her hand she carried a large, elaborately carved sandal wood box."Do you know where they are? Have you heard from them?" Natalia cried, rushing towards her.Mrs. Jervais answered her with her calm smile."Don't worry, clear, they will be here in plenty of time. Nothing has happened, I'm sure. If you knew Lemuel as I do, you'd know that he had taken them all to the Mansion House, where he always gets involved in those eternal political discussions. You know there is much talk now of a war with the Cherokees—so they are trying to settle it, I know. But here are the jewels, Natalia. They have not been opened since your mother's death."Natalia took the box in her arms, pressing it to her affectionately."I have never seen them," she said, taking a key that Judge Houston had brought her that day, and slipping it into the lock. "I always said I would never wear them until I was married." She placed the box on a chair and knelt down before it. "I have always thought," she began, very softly, "that there are a few things that one should wear very seldom—some things only once. I am never going to wear this dress again." She laid her hand softly into the folds of the white tarletan. "I'm going to put it away in the cedar chest after to-night—way up in the attic—and only take it out on my anniversaries, to dream over."She turned the key in the lock and lifted the lid. Lying on a white velvet lining, grown yellow with age, was a magnificent collection of jewels. There was a necklace formed of oblong pearl medallions, the centre of each filled by a large sapphire; there were ear-rings of the same design which would hang to the wearer's shoulder; four bracelets completed the set. There were several quaint brooches of onyx and pearls and diamonds, and some heavy pieces of white coral, elaborately carved.Mrs. Houston had entered while Natalia was gazing into the case, and stood just behind her, one hand resting on her shoulder."You saw her wear them, Aunt Maria," Natalia murmured, finally. "Then place them on me just as she would have liked them to be."Leading her up to the cheval glass, the old lady clasped the necklace about her throat, slipped the bracelets far up her arms, and adjusted the ear-rings to her minute satisfaction; leaving for the last the veil, which she pinned to Natalia's blue-black hair with a broad band of sapphires, her own present to the bride, and one that had done duty a century before, along the banks of the James River."Now you are wonderfully beautiful, Natalia," she said, giving a last touch and stepping away to gain a better view of the arrangement. "Your eyes have caught the glow of the sapphires. Look at her, Millicent! Isn't she lovely?"Any one who now sees the portrait of her, painted by Weygant, will realize how beautiful she must have been that night; for the artist seems to have caught, with a remarkable inspiration, the gorgeous depths of her eyes, and even in the canvas one sees the faint, velvety shadows that gradually faded away from her heavy black lashes. This, probably, was what accentuated their brilliancy and gave the effect of an inner, glowing light. As she faced the others and felt their admiration, the excitement rushed over her again, and for a moment she was dazzling.Dicey was the first to turn from her and gaze towards the window."Do you see them coming, Mammy?" Natalia asked, still before the mirror."No, ma'am, dey's all done quit comin'," came Dicey's low murmur.Natalia turned swiftly towards Mrs. Houston, searching her face for some sign of anxiety. She found none."You all go downstairs and entertain the people," she said at last. "Mammy will stay here with me until Morgan comes.""Ido hopethey will come soon," Millicent said, kissing Natalia for the tenth time. "I'm terribly impatient and flustered, and I always get so red in the face when I am excited.""It will not be long now," Mrs. Houston said cheerfully, "I sent Felix for them an hour ago, and you may be sure he will find them. I'll send you word, dear, as soon as I see them coming."Left alone with Dicey, Natalia turned slowly back to the mirror and looked at herself a long time. The veil was still thrown back from her face, and in the soft glow of the candles, the reflection gained a vague, misty charm.During the long silence the sound of fiddling floated up to the room. Surely he had come now! That was the reason for the music. As she listened, the music faded softly and finally stopped altogether. Still there was no sound of a carriage on the driveway. Finally she sank into a chair and looked at Dicey, who was peering intently through the shutters. Then she glanced at the clock. It was exactly eight—the marriage hour. The fiddling began again, and mingling with it, the sounds of laughter in the garden and the swishing of silks along the veranda.She rose from the chair, walking about the room, while the clock ticked off the minutes relentlessly. In the stillness of the room her voice sounded harsh and unnatural."Mammy—do you see him coming?"Dicey did not answer nor move from her position."Mammy—come here!"The old slave held up her hand cautiously."Wait—I sees er kerridge."Natalia laughed happily."How foolish I've been! I was actually getting nervous!""Dey is drivin' mighty slow—sh-h—dar's er man lyin' 'cross de back seat—sumthin's done happen."Natalia rushed toward the window and threw the shutters wide apart. In the glow of the illuminations she saw the occupants of the carriage distinctly. Judge Houston and another man sat on the front seat; on the back seat, lying outstretched, was a limp figure, the face covered with a handkerchief.She rushed to the door and out into the hall, pausing half-way down the steps when she saw the men carrying the helpless form into the parlour. She stood there, as if frozen lifeless, the crowded hall unseen, the curious glances of the guests unnoticed. Then, when the muffled stillness was broken by a shriek, she moved one step further. It was Mrs. Jervais' voice that had resounded through the crowded house.It was then that Judge Houston came out of the parlour and closed the door after him. Signalling the crowd to fall back, he went towards the steps. Natalia had reached him now, her hands clinging to him in sudden trembling."Is it Morgan—in there?"The old gentleman shook his head, and looking down into Natalia's pallid, quivering face framed by the wedding veil, he drew her close to him."No—it is Lemuel Jervais.""And Morgan—where is he?"Judge Houston did not reply at once. Putting his arm about Natalia, and motioning away the staring crowd, he led her down the hall to a deserted place on the back veranda, where the wedding supper was already on the table and the candles blazing."They had a difficulty over cards—Morgan and Jervais," the old gentleman spoke in a low voice. "When I got there Lemuel was—dead. If I could only have gotten there sooner!" he ended, his whole figure shaking with emotion.Natalia leaned heavily against the wall."Where is Morgan?" she finally asked."There was only one place for him to go to—the jail. It seems to have been a very bitter fight,—the slavery question was at the back of it,—you know the type of Jervais' followers. I knew the jail was the only safe place for him—I was powerless to stem the crowd.""Is he safe—now?""Yes."Suddenly Natalia tore the veil from her head and threw it away from her."Will you take me to him, Uncle Felix—now—at once?"The old gentleman drew back, startled by her vehemence."Not to-night, Natalia. It is no place for you."For a second her eyes flashed into his."If he is in danger I want to face it with him! Will you go with me? Or shall I go alone?"
CHAPTER V
CANDLELIGHT
After supper that evening, when they were leaving the dining-room, Natalia slipped her arm through Judge Houston's, and drew him towards the big salon across the hall.
"Let's you and I run away from the others for a while," she whispered as they entered the room. "I haven't had any talk at all with you, and if we slip in here and sit over on that old davenport in the corner, they'll never find us, and we can talk, and talk, and talk—like we used to. There is so much that I want you to tell me; so much that I want to tell you."
She led him across the highly polished floor, the old gentleman playfully assuming that he might slip.
"Suppose I should fall, Natalia," he complained; "I never did like these slippery floors. I won't let Maria have them at home."
"Lean on me, Uncle Felix," she answered, smiling. "I know it will be difficult for you to do, though—you never leaned on any one in your life, did you? Put your arm through mine and take a step—so. Any one would think we were dancing a minuet or a Virginia reel! But you will dance the quadrille with me at my own wedding, won't you, Uncle Felix? Now!" she ended, landing him safely on the deep sofa.
"The time is coming, Natalia, when I must lean on some one all the time," the old gentleman sighed. "It isn't very far off, either. Do you know, I find myself deferring to Maria for the smallest things, and when not Maria—it is Sargent."
"Sargent Everett," Natalia repeated after him, piling some cushions on the horse-hair upholstery so that the old gentleman would lean back comfortably. Then she pushed a small stool before the sofa, and sat down upon it, resting her chin in her hand while the other one lay across his knee. "Sargent Everett," she said again thoughtfully. "That is one of the things I want you to tell me, Uncle Felix—all about him."
The late twilight of the warm June day still glowed through the windows. The whispering of the birds as they sought shelter for the night in the magnolia grove floated in to them, lending a potent charm to the quiet surroundings. Judge Houston did not answer at once, and in the long silence that widened between them, he felt for a while that almost any words would jar the contentment of the moment. Occasionally his hand moved across Natalia's hair—a touch so gentle and loving that she wondered if her father would have meant more to her than this dear old man.
"There is so much to tell," he began at last, "and I would gain so much pleasure in the telling that you would fall asleep long before I was half through. Indeed, Natalia, Sargent is making these last days of my life very happy, for in his success I seem to get a pleasure so deep that at times I imagine his triumphs are my own."
Natalia moved restlessly, as if to rise, then sank back on the stool again.
"Why is it that every one I meet seems to worship him?" she murmured, half complaining. "You have always loved him more than me—yes, you have, dear Uncle Felix, and now, when I come back home, I find Dicey is his slave—and willingly, too. He has stolen the love of you both from me. I am growing very, very jealous of him. Do you know, Uncle Felix, Dicey says she will not leave him, but I believe she will, don't you?"
"I did not know you had seen her. Was she here to-day?"
"No. I went to her."
"At Sargent's house—to-day?"
"Yes, that is where I was all the afternoon. He was not there. Dicey said he was out of town on some political tour. Tell me about him, Uncle Felix—it has been years and years since I heard from him or about him. Occasionally I have seen articles in the papers about his speeches. Are they so wonderful? Have you some of them that I could read?"
Judge Houston's eyes glowed with the enthusiasm that was always in them when he spoke of Sargent, nor did Natalia miss the sudden quickening of interest and kindling of energies that so obviously manifested his devotion.
"His speeches are remarkable works of beauty and construction, but they are nothing in comparison with his delivery. It always saddens me when I think of his future reputation—when he goes down in history—as he surely will—for people will not realize half his power in reading his speeches; his magnetism, his charm, his force that holds one spellbound in listening—all that will be lost to the next generation, and it is that, more than anything else, that has made him remarkable. I took out my watch one day to see how long he would take for a certain speech, and I found myself at the end of the speech still holding the watch in my hand, entirely forgotten."
"Then the years have brought him success," Natalia reflected. "I remember his great ambition, and a phrase of his—'I want to show the world that because a man is a cripple he can still be a great man.'"
The Judge bowed his head, enthusiastically "My one great hope is that I shall live to hear his voice sounding in the walls of the Capitol at Washington. It will, too, one of these days."
"Tell me about his success," Natalia said leaning back comfortably against his knees.
"It is a long, long story, Natalia, and would weary you in the telling. It began when you were here. Don't you remember the trial of Phelps? That started him on the upward path, and it also had a much deeper significance than the world ever supposed. When he had convicted Phelps it troubled him so that he went to the jail with the object of releasing the fellow. Fortunately for Sargent Phelps never knew his intention, and killed himself and ever since then Sargent has defended any and every criminal that comes to him. He calls it his life-work—saving men so as to give them another chance. After that case, he was sent to the Legislature and now we are going to send him to Congress—the election takes place this week. After that he says he is coming back here and settle down in his home and be content to practise criminal law, which he has made his special work. Some day, when you meet him, get him to tell you about his theory in regard to it; it is beautiful."
"When I meet him," Natalia reflected softly. "It seems that I shall not see him again, Uncle Felix; and yet, do you know, this place is not the same to me as it used to be, and I believe that it is because he is not here. In some way he seems to be very closely woven into all the impressions of my childhood—he and Dicey." Suddenly she turned and looked up into the old man's face. "Uncle Felix, Dicey told me that he always talked of the time when I should come back to him. Is it really so? Did he think that?"
Judge Houston leaned back, so that the protecting shadows would betray no expression on his face. It was too late now for her to know. He would tell her nothing that would in any way tinge her happiness with a shade of sadness or regret. When he answered her, his voice was steady, almost gay, in an attempt at carelessness.
"That was a dream of mine, Natalia. You and he were dearer to me than any others in the world. It was only natural that I should have hoped that you two might have loved each other. But you see," he sighed in mock despair, "I am carrying out the words of the prophet—'your old men shall dream dreams'—and I am a very old man, Natalia. I shall be seventy-six my next birthday."
"Seventy-six years," Natalia repeated, absently, wondering over the reason for his not replying to her question. Could it be that what Dicey said was true? She hurriedly drove the doubt from her thoughts, for a strange fear had suddenly crept into her consciousness—the fear that her great happiness might come to her through the suffering of another. With the intuitive perception she rose from her stool with a start. The room had become totally dark; only the light from the hall threw a faint shaft into the room.
She groped her way to the tall black marble mantel, over which hung the portrait of her mother, and lit the two seven-branched candlesticks. Going back to the stool, she sat down as before, resting her face in her hands and gazing at the portrait.
In the soft glow of candlelight the room looked enormous. The vista made by the two mirrors at each end and directly opposite to each other created a perspective that was without limit in its repeated reflection. The portrait gained a semblance of life from the deep shadows and high lights, and looked down from its gorgeous gilt frame on the crimson damask upholstery and rosewood carvings, with the affection that years of association had created. The gleaming mahogany floor gathered into its embrace the reflection, and in the subdued light and the strange fragrance of passed years breathing life into the speechless objects, Natalia felt that she was growing nearer to what it all represented to her than she had ever been before.
"Seventy-six years," she said again thoughtfully. "How beautiful to grow old as you have done, Uncle Felix. Nay, is it growing old? It seems to me that with you and Aunt Maria it has been a gradual growing nearer to a beautiful future life—a gentle approach towards God. I wonder if I shall grow old that way, or die in the heyday of my youth and happiness—as my mother did. To think that I never knew her," she sighed, when she had looked a long time at the portrait. "And now when I seem to think of her most, when I feel that I need her—she is gone. Can there be a greater loss to a girl than not to know a mother? And I shall never know what it is! Sometimes it makes me very sad when I realize there is no one from whom I can claim anything—no one to whom I can go and demand things because of the ties of blood. Even you and Aunt Maria are really no kin—are not tied except by love."
The old man leaned forward and turned her face towards him.
"Could any ties be stronger than those of love?" he smiled into her eyes.
"I know, dear Uncle Felix," she pressed his hands as she answered, "but the tie of blood is a very wonderful thing. It makes me feel so dreadfully lonely at times, to know that you, that Morgan, that every one is doing for me not because they ought to, but because they love me—perhaps pity me. Probably I express myself badly, and yet—you must know what I mean. It is lack of thatrightto lean on some one for help and protection, and feel that you are only demanding of him what it is his duty to give. That is what I expect my marriage to bring me."
Judge Houston leaned nearer to her, intently watching the changing expressions that played across her face, and which seemed to gather brilliancy from the portrait towards which she looked. His eye wandered from the painted face to the living reproduction, then back again—and between them there rose before him his old bridge of dreams—dreams which the last month had shattered. Again he felt an almost overwhelming desire to tell her of that dream which was but the reflection of the dream of another; if it were only possible to let her know of the plans and talks and hopes that he and the other one had made their guiding star for years! But he could not—his duty to her kept him silent, and in her love he realized the hopelessness of his own desires.
Then in the more than three-score years of calm restraint and self-denial, his deep affection for the man who had become his son rushed over him and made him speak.
"Natalia," he hurried over the words, "there is something I want to know—from your own lips."
"You can ask me anything, Uncle Felix." She turned her face towards him with the frankness of a child. "I have no secrets that I would not tell you."
His hand rested on her shoulder while he searched her eyes.
"How great is your love for Morgan Talbot?"
Natalia met his eyes seriously for a few moments; and then she laughed softly.
"What a question, Uncle Felix, and particularly when it comes from you! How great is my love for the man I am going to marry? Do you know me so little that you deem such a question necessary?"
"No. But I know you so well that I know that you will tell me the truth—that is, if you answer me seriously."
Gradually the smile faded into a pensive expression, and Natalia turned slowly back to where the gleaming portrait held her attention again.
"How great is my love," she murmured as if in self-questioning. "How great is my love? Why, Uncle Felix, how do I know how great it is? What is there for me to compare it to?"
The old man leaned towards her, and though her face was turned from him when he spoke, she felt that there was something left unsaid behind his words.
"Is this the first time you have loved? Is there nothing that went before, by which you can judge?"
"No, nothing." Natalia turned and searched his eyes for the hidden meaning. "I have never been in love before, unless—" her face flushed slightly as she found his meaning, "unless it were my old admiration for Sargent Everett. But then I was too young to know."
Judge Houston leaned back once more into the protecting shadows of the wall, it had come at last he sighed to himself, and she had been the first to mention it.
"And is this love that you now feel, like the first?"
"No." She shook her head, her face saddening sweetly. "No. I adored Sargent Everett. It was worship. A girl only has that experience once in life; fortunately it came to me early and I outgrew it. But I remember it painfully well. It is the sort of feeling that one must have who bows down and worships a god, and sees that god returning his affection—can there be any sensation more wonderful! And all the incidents of our association naturally added a picturesqueness that impressed my childish imagination, coloured it, and made his image sink very deep upon mv mind. This morning when I went out to the old bench under the magnolias where he and I used to sit, I actually felt a return of my old love for him. I actually forgot Morgan for the moment!" She ended with a happy laugh.
"Tell me then," Judge Houston asked after a pause. "How does this other love differ from the first?"
She clasped her hands in her lap and leaned back against the sofa, her eyes half closed in meditation. Finally, with a graceful movement, she put out her hand and drew the old man's into hers.
"My love for Morgan," she began slowly. "How can I ever describe it! It did not come to me suddenly—it was more the outgrowth of association—a drifting into it without realization. Is it not always that way?" She lifted her face towards the old man intently, and found him looking down at her with a sad expression that she did not understand.
"You say you found it that way?"
"Yes, Uncle Felix," Natalia answered gayly. "Now please don't upbraid me for not falling in love at first sight. You know such things don't happen nowadays. I first met Morgan at the boarding school where Mamma Brandon sent me. Millicent was there with me at the time, and through our friendship I began to hear stories of her beautiful brother whom she described as the acme of all that was handsome and brave and wonderful. You must remember we were only twelve then. It is rather a strange thing, now, as things have eventuated, that I used to answer all her descriptions of Morgan with effusions about Sargent Everett. Then I met him. You can see the impression he would be likely to make upon a lonely little school-girl away from the few people who had ever loved her. Naturally the absent scene faded as the years passed, and I found myself living only in the world about me—a world filled with all the interests of the school and my broadening education, and made a place of enchantment to me by the kindness and affection of Morgan's family. They made me one of them. And when the day of real freedom came, when I left school to enter the world, with the enormous accretions from my plantations which you and Mamma Brandon had so skilfully managed for me—everything was perfect. Ah, it was beautiful! That first year of my real life. I can remember exactly my sensations the night I made my debut. We went to the opera first to hear Jenny Lind sing, and afterwards there was a big ball. I carried a beautiful bouquet of lilies of the valley—oh, Uncle Felix, it was gorgeous! That was two years ago. Since then, you know how I have travelled, how I spent a year in Europe, losing myself in the shadows of all that historic past, all that overpowering procession of events that has left its monuments for us to wonder over.... Those were carefree days, happy and thoughtless, with no suspicion of a to-morrow, and in them, with me—for long periods of travel—was Morgan—always faithful, always attentive, always an ideal lover. I never thought of marrying him then—at least never seriously, until I came back from Europe, and found that the same things that filled my life before amused me no longer. I was tired of playing, Uncle Felix, I had played too much. Something within called me to the great problems of life—I felt that I wanted to be in touch with people whose lives were amounting to something, who were doing good in the world and helping others. I seemed to realize then, for the first time, that I was drifting along in a happiness that would bring me nothing in the future, and I saw myself in my old age, when my youth and freshness and beauty were all gone, as a little child, without any one dependent upon me for their happiness. I think it was that, Uncle Felix," and she drew his hand gently to her cheek, "that opened my eyes to Morgan's love. He was there, waiting to give me a protection and haven from that awful lonely future. And I thought of you and Aunt Maria growing old together so beautifully, and I know now, Uncle Felix, that Morgan and I shall do the same.... When I have a child, Uncle Felix, think how everything that has gone before will be as nothing! When I have one that is mine, a part of me—that is what will make my life divine!" Suddenly she put her hands up to his face and kissed him. "Forgive me! Forgive me! I did not mean to wound you. I did not mean to thrust my happiness at you—so."
There were tears in the old man's eyes as she talked on, lost in her own narration, and when she looked up at him again, they were streaming down his cheeks, she rose from the stool and slipped on to the sofa beside him, pulling his arm around her waist, so that her face lay close against his, with the silence deepening between them.
"Uncle Felix," she began again, after having risen and carefully snuffed the candles on the mantel. "I have never told any one what I have told you to-night; indeed, there was no one to tell—not even Morgan. It was my thought of you and this dear old place that made me wish to solemnize my marriage here. It may be the last time I shall ever be here, at least for many, many years; yet now that I have come back, and all the past has rushed over me with all its old charm and fascination—I feel that I should like to remain here always. There is something so protected and safe here—an aloofness from the world that would save one from almost every suffering. But of course it is impossible." She stirred restlessly. "Already Morgan is growing impatient, and wants to get back to the rush and stir of a city." She rose and with both hands pulled the old gentleman up after her. "Let's go back to the others now. But first—I may never have the chance to speak to you of it again—tell Sargent Everett of my deep affection for him still—tell him that I shall always be grateful for his having made me a very happy little girl, and that the only thing that marred my happiness on my wedding day was his absence. Now, let's go back to Morgan."
CHAPTER VI
HIS WEDDING PRESENT
The wedding day came—a beautiful day, filled with the glory of June sunshine, warm, sweet, brilliant—bringing in its perfection omens of great happiness.
The old home gained in beauty as the grove about it grew heavily laden with the honeyed fragrance of the magnolia blossoms, and the deep green leaves became even more varnished and glistening. The cool shadows and the topaz patches of sunlight mingled upon the tall columns; the red-tiled roof glowed as if with an understanding of its responsibility that day.
Natalia rose in the early morning and passing through the hall, where already there were signs of much stirring and preparation, went out into the garden. It was still very early. The first smoke from the quarters was curling lazily upward, and from the barn came the tinkling sound of bells as the cows were led into the pens for milking; and all through the atmosphere, insistent and penetrating, was that indefinable, vibrating sound of nature awakening in the early morning.
The garden greeted her with a burst of bloom, veiled timidly in its protection of dew. She lifted her face to the soft air, and breathed the delicious fragrance of the honeysuckle. Everything was perfect to her at this moment. She looked through the eyes of one to whom the world has become a consummation of ideals.
She lingered beside the pomegranate bush, smiling as she vainly sought for the jay-bird's nest that she had found there when a child; then she strolled on into the depths of the grove. How fortunate she was, she reflected, as her eyes lingered on all her surroundings, to have this quiet, beautiful spot in which to solemnize the marriage that was to bring her completeness. How perfect that her honeymoon should be spent in the surroundings that her mother and father had known at such a time. In each detail she imagined she could discover some preference of theirs; in the quiet and aloofness of the early morning she felt intuitively that they were with her.
The sound of a step behind her made her turn quickly, a quick frown at the interruption changing instantly into a smile of happiness, for Morgan had seen her from his window and followed her.
"It is our wedding day, sweetheart," he said when he had reached her and put his arm about her. "Our wedding day—think of it! May I be the first to kiss you on such an important day?"
Natalia looked up at him thoughtfully, dwelling with a tender glance upon his bright, manly face and fair hair. In the morning brilliance he shone resplendent, catching, as if by natural attraction, all the beauty and freshness of the day in his brilliant colouring and deep blue eyes.
"Is it such an important day?" Natalia answered softly. "I sometimes wonder if marriage is not an anticlimax. The greatest moment to me was when I realized that I loved you. Nothing will ever equal the joy of that—not even our wedding."
"That is a girl's way of looking at it," Morgan laughed easily. "With a man it is quite different. You see, dear, he fears so that the girl might change her mind, that he is not really happy and satisfied until she actually belongs to him."
"There you go, Morgan." Natalia looked away, answering his smile half-heartedly. "Joking when I am serious. But it is very fortunate, I suppose. I should always see the serious side of life if it were not for you. I am so glad that we are different, dear. You see—we are antidotes. You correct my seriousness—I sober your lightheartedness."
Morgan looked at her curiously.
"Yet you can be as gay as I, Natalia. You were so at school; you were on our long voyage together. It is only since we have been engaged that you have changed. What is it? Are you not entirely happy?"
"Of course I am—the happiest woman in the world! Only I feel my happiness differently from you. It is a more serious thing to me. It's my nature, I suppose. I've been trying all my life to let people know how happy I was, and even when in my most melancholy spells I found a certain quiet peace, I had to appear gay to keep others from thinking I was miserable. It's a trick of mine, to hide my real feelings, I suppose. We're all acting, anyhow, don't you think so?"
"No, I'm not," Talbot smiled down at her gayly. "I honestly believe I am as nearly frank as people get. I never could hide my emotions, and I've never yet learned to control my anger."
"How dreadfully you frighten me, Morgan." Natalia frowned in assumed fear. "Suppose you should get angry with me—would you treat me very badly? Would you whip me?" She laughed outright. "Dicey says there used to be an old farmer here who whipped his wife every Saturday night because he said it was the only way a man could make a woman respect him. And she also says that when the man was sent to jail for stealing his neighbour's cow, that his wife would go with him. Such a case makes one ponder, doesn't it, Morgan, as to which is the right way to hold another's love?"
"I'll never treat you that way, Natalia, because," and he hesitated, half-serious, "I'm almost afraid of you at times—when your eyes grow very black and the colour fades out of your face. I don't know whether it is anger, or what. It makes you wonderfully beautiful, though."
"I know—it is when I'm very intense. It's when my Spanish blood is aroused. Sometimes I have felt that I was acting without my own volition—that some one else, a new nature within me, was compelling me on to something I was helpless to combat. I will tell you about it some day, but not this morning. I've determined to let nothing mar our happiness to-day. But I have a request to make," she ended tentatively.
"Anything in the world—you have only to name it," Morgan replied promptly, swinging her hand in his, to and fro, like a happy schoolboy.
"Do you know, sir," Natalia began, with mincing manner and chiding voice, "that you spent all of yesterday afternoon and the one before, away from me—and worst of all—with Mr. Jervais!"
Morgan's face showed his evident surprise.
"You don't mean to tell me, Natalia, that you objected to that! Certainly you didn't want me to stay here all the time listening to you women folks discuss trousseaux and wedding cakes!"
Natalia smiled at him silently.
"That must be a very attractive place—that Mansion House," she commented archly.
"The tavern! What do you know about it?"
"Uncle Felix told me how popular you were there—how many friends you had made already. It doesn't take a very lively imagination to picture the poker games there, for I've heard of them ever since I could remember. There were great old days, then, and still are, I fancy, if you men would only tell about it. But, seriously, Morgan, don't go this afternoon. Promise me."
Morgan's face had clouded as she ended, and slipping his arm around her he led her towards the bench on the brow of the hill.
"Listen, Natalia," he said, when they had sat down. "Something happened yesterday which I did not want you to know. Now, I see I had best tell you. Lemuel Jervais and I got into a pretty reckless game of poker all the afternoon. Towards the end I think he must have reached the limit of his ready resources, for when every one had withdrawn and he and I were sticking it out, he said he was going to pay me in slaves, if he lost. You know my feelings in regard to slavery. So when it came to that, I threw down my hand and said I was not gambling for human beings!" Morgan dropped his hands between his knees and stared before him in silence. "It was all rather unfortunate, but I suppose couldn't be helped," he continued. "What makes it a little embarrassing to me is that Jervais insisted that I should go back again to-day and finish the game."
"But you didn't agree to it, did you?" Natalia exclaimed.
"What else could I do?" Morgan answered rather gloomily. "He is my host and yours, and would take offence—particularly as I have been the winner all along. Besides, it wouldn't do not to go for a little while. Do you know what I've decided to do?" he added, bright again. "I'm going to let Jervais win rather heavily, and then suggest that we come back here."
Natalia met his brightness only half-way.
"I suppose you will have to do it, but youwillcome back soon?"
"You have my word for it."
"Well, then, I suppose I'll have to be contented." Natalia smiled again. "But after to-day, when everybody has gone away, and Brother Joel and Millicent are on their way to New Orleans, and we shall be here all alone—you must not let a single thing, no matter how great, take you away from me. Just you and I—all alone! I've planned each day—almost every moment!"
They strolled a little way down the hill, to where the ground rolled precipitately to the river. The opposite shore was still grey and misty with the retreating night, and over the stretch of wilderness hung a blue veil of mystery.
"The Indians call it 'The Land of the Setting Sun,'" Natalia said, looking out before her. "Poor wild creatures! It seems the only land left them now. To me it always seemed the future. One thinks one sees it, yet it is all vague and unknown."
"That is not the way with our future, though," Morgan replied, gathering Natalia in his arms. "Ours is neither vague nor unknown. This day is a symbol of what it is to be. It will be only happiness," he kissed her, "happiness—and happiness again!"
The day deepened in beauty as the hours passed, and all the while elaborate decorations were being arranged throughout the house. Many friends came, bringing wagon loads of trailing vines and ferns and wild hydrangeas. Festoons of Southern smilax were twined about the columns and draped from one to the other, so that the old house looked gay and youthful, as it had many years ago; and along the veranda, tables were placed on which stood tall crystal globes protecting the candles which were to illumine the place at nightfall; and along the balustrade of the upper balcony was a row of candles which encircled the house, and would make it a blaze of glory.
In the grove hundreds of transparences were hung high among the thick foliage, vying with the white blossoms in doing honour to the occasion; two big piles of brush were placed far out on the road beyond the gate, which were to be set ablaze in the evening and light the late arrivals on their way.
Within, the large salon was heavy with the odour of gardenias. The walls were covered with the fragrant blossoms and from the corners of the ceiling to where the bronze chandelier swung with its hundred and fifty candles, garlands of ivy were draped. Across the hall, the dining-room floor was waxed until Zebediah pronounced it too slippery for any one to stand upon, much less attempt dancing. Even the library was thrown open, a thing never done before in entertaining, and all the wedding presents displayed there—presents that brought smiles and tears to Natalia, for in many of these gifts she realized that the friends of her parents were parting with their heirlooms to do her honour. There were priceless pieces of Sevres china; a huge punch bowl of Bohemian glass, the sides cut in broad panels which showed layers of rose and cream; candlesticks in bronze and brass and silver; many pieces of Sheffield plate and silver that had come to America with its early settlers; and, causing more trouble and amusement than all the other presents, a magnificent peacock sent by old Mrs. Buckingham, which thought its special duty was to make the air ring with hideous cries.
In the late afternoon Natalia went down the stairs on the back veranda to inspect the last touches that Mrs. Jervais and Mrs. Houston were giving the supper table. The veranda had been enclosed the whole length in osnaburgs, and a long table extended from one end to the other, literally groaning under the weight of appetizing delicacies.
Already the front of the house was gay with the people who had driven many miles to the wedding, and whose carriages and wagons were encamped without the gates awaiting the return to them in the early morning; for it was the custom of those days to spend the entire night in jollification, the fiddlers never resting their bows until the sunlight clashed with candle-light.
"Oh, Natalia, look at those nougat pyramids! Aren't they dreams!" Millicent cried. "I know they must be six feet high."
"They were made in New Orleans," commented Mrs. Jervais, proudly, following the two girls as they moved down the table inspecting everything.
"Won't it be a pity to break them? But of course every one will want a souvenir to take home. Natalia, I think you ought to keep one whole in memory of the day. And there's the wedding cake! In five terraces! Isn't it beautiful? Where in the world did you get it, Mrs. Houston?"
Mrs. Houston's eyes lit up with enthusiasm.
"I made every bit of it myself. It took the whites of fifty eggs!"
"What on earth did you do with the yelks?" exclaimed Millicent, dumbfounded.
"Is there nothing I can do?" Natalia said, putting her arms about the old lady, and kissing her cheek. "How good you all are to me! I seem to grow happier every moment—"
The clang of the door-bell broke on her unfinished words, and in the next moment a servant had entered with a note. Natalia took it from the salver, and glanced at the address, drawing her brows together, as if in recollection. The others waited silently impatient.
"Do open it, Natalia," Millicent cried. "Iknowit's another wedding present. Won't you read it aloud?"
Natalia still held the note in her hand, thoughtfully regarding it.
"I'm trying to remember whose writing it is. It's very familiar. Oh, I know now! It's Sargent Everett's."
She tore open the envelope, letting it fall to the floor as she hurriedly read the note. When she looked up again, the tears were streaming down her face.
"He has sent me the most precious wedding present in the world," she cried with a sob in her voice. "He has given Mammy back to me!"
She ran through the dining-room, and down the full length of the hall, and out on to the front porch, throwing herself into the old slave's arms.
"He has given you to me, Mammy! He has given you to me! You're mine—you dear old Mammy Dicey! Come on upstairs to my room, and tell me all about it. Mammy, I'm getting everything in the world to-day. Isn't it wonderful? And now you've come back to me!"
She pulled the old woman up the steps beside her, and into the big room where they had spent many hours together.
It was about dusk, and the room was in the quiet gloom of twilight. Natalia locked the door after they had entered, and pushing a big arm chair close beside the bed, she led Dicey who stood in the centre of the room, dazed into forgetfulness by the familiar objects about her, to it, and made her sit down while she threw herself on the bed and drew the old slave's hands into both her own.
"It's like old times, isn't it, Mammy? Just exactly like it used to be—you there beside me when I went to sleep. Oh, Mammy, I'm so happy! I want to cry just a little like I used to, and you hold my hand and pat it and sing to me,—very soft and low, ah! now!"
And with the light gently fading from behind the bowed blinds, and the room sinking into darkness, the old slave chanted softly, with the tears streaming down her furrowed cheeks:
"Whar, oh, whar am de Hebrew chillun,Whar, oh, whar am de Hebrew chillun,Whar, oh, whar am de Hebrew chillun,Way ober in de promis' lan'."
"Whar, oh, whar am de Hebrew chillun,Whar, oh, whar am de Hebrew chillun,Whar, oh, whar am de Hebrew chillun,Way ober in de promis' lan'."
"Whar, oh, whar am de Hebrew chillun,
Whar, oh, whar am de Hebrew chillun,
Whar, oh, whar am de Hebrew chillun,
Way ober in de promis' lan'."
CHAPTER VII
THE HOUR OF THE WEDDING
Evening closed about the old home; the candles in the garden began to glimmer and throw a fairylike glow through the shrubbery; the two great bonfires on each side of the gate were lighted and illumined the road for near a mile. Carriages began rolling up to the front door and discharging their elaborately costumed occupants. The sound of laughter and merry voices floated up in waves, and in the distance came the wail of fiddles being tuned.
Suddenly a rap sounded on the door; the sanctuary of the two reunited women was broken.
"Natalia! Natalia! All the guests are arriving," Millicent called in an excited voice. "Have you begun to dress? Do let me in! It's scandalous for them to be so late!"
Natalia sprang from the bed and hurried to the door.
"Is it really late?" she exclaimed, as Millicent burst into the room. "I hadn't an idea time was flying so. Mammy and I had gone back years and years, and forgotten everything. Is Morgan ready?"
"Ready! I should think not!" Millicent answered. "Do you know, neither he nor Joel nor Mr. Jervais have come back yet; and they have been gone for hours. Mrs. Houston sent the Judge in an hour ago to bring them back. It's perfectly dreadful for them to behave like this, and I intend to tell them so as soon as they come!"
Natalia listened calmly, then turned away to hide the anxiety in her eyes.
"They will be here before we know it," she answered, after a little while, forcing a smile to her lips.
"I suppose they became interested in some discussion and forgot all about the time. Just like men! But do hurry, Millicent, and come back as soon as you can to help me dress. Now, Mammy," she turned back to Dicey, stopping a moment to survey herself in the cheval glass. "Are you going to help make me very beautiful to-night? I believe I'll wear my hair like I used to. It's dreadfully unfashionable now, but I believe it's becoming."
She sat down in the chair, and unloosening her hair, let it fall in waves about her. Clasping her hands tight in her lap, she looked steadily before her the anxiety creeping back into her eyes. All the while Dicey watched her closely. In the old woman's eyes the strange look had come again. It was burning brilliantly now.
"I wish he had come sooner. I wish—" Natalia lifted her head resolutely—"I mean platted in a crown, Mammy, like you did it when I was a little girl. Have you forgotten how?"
"No—I hain't fergit."
"Then you arrange it for me, and I'll wear the daisies in it that you brought me. Won't that be fetching? I'll sit very still, Mammy, while you fix it. Do you remember," she laughed plaintively, "how I used to wriggle and fidget when you would do it that way?"
Dicey did not move toward her. Shaking her head firmly she only stared.
"I won't fix hit dat way fer yer," she suddenly burst out. "I won't! I won't!"
"Why, Mammy, don't you think it's becoming?"
"I won't fix hit dat way 'cause he allus said he lak hit dat way."
Natalia looked at her bewildered.
"But Morgan never saw me wear it that way. How could he know?"
"I don' mean him. I means Marse Sargent."
Natalia broke into a merry laugh and drew the old woman's face down to her own.
"You dear—old—foolish—Mammy! Of course I didn't know you were talking about Sargent Everett. Besides—what difference does he make now? I believe you were teasing me about him, anyhow. If he thought so much of me he would have come to my wedding."
Dicey shook her head unconvinced.
"Is dat all de larnin' yer done pick up in yer trabbelin', honey? Hit's 'cause he lubs yer so dat he cyant b'ar seein' yer marryin' anoder man. Dat's hit, honey-chile."
Natalia narrowed her eyes a moment; then smiled, a little wistfully.
"You are entirely too wise, Mammy. Sometimes I almost fear you. You are trying to make me unhappy on my wedding night, by telling me my happiness is breaking another's heart. You know it isn't really so—now is it, Mammy?"
Dicey's face was turned away from Natalia as she moved about the room, pulling down the shades and lighting the candles. Twice she opened her lips to speak, then closed them tight and went on. Suddenly she stopped and went back to Natalia.
"Yer is breakin' his heart—yer is—yer is. Yer tole him yer wuz gwine come back ter him an' yer ought ter done hit. Yer know yer ought to—cause yer done pledge yerself ter him." Her face was close to Natalia's as she whispered the words, and involuntarily the girl drew back, startled. The intensity of the old woman's eyes was ominous. The next moment Natalia rose from her chair and faced her.
"Mammy, you are trying your best to make me miserable. I never thought it of you. You have lost all your love for me for your new master. Because you love him so, you think every one must—but I do not—do you hear, Mammy? I don't love him one bit any more; he doesn't love me either. It's all your imagination! And if you don't stop talking about him, I'm going to send you right back to him!"
Natalia's voice was calm, but her eyes flashed into the old woman's, speaking her anger. In another moment Dicey was on her knees with her arms about her.
"Fergive me! honey-chile, I didn' mean nothin'!" she cried. "I lubs yer more'n ennybody in de worl', but I cyant help er feelin' kinder perturbed 'bout pore Marse. Yer hain't gwine sen' me erway, will yer? Say yer won', honey, 'cause he'll be powerful mad wid me ef he knows I'se done made yer mad. I'll do yer ha'r anyway yer says ef yer'll only say yer hain't gwine sen' me erway."
Natalia's anger went as it had come. The next moment she was seated before the mirror, with Dicey brushing and platting her hair.
"We always did quarrel, Mammy," she laughed happily again. "I suppose it proves our love, don't you? But it does make me so jealous to find you loving somebody more than you do me," she added, reflectively. "It really is odd how he makes people love him," glancing at Dicey's enigmatic face reflected in the mirror. "I'm talking about your master, Mammy. I see now that I have lost your love entirely. But if he does for others as he has done for me, I do not wonder at it," she sighed. "Who else would have thought of sending you to me for a wedding present?"
"Eberybody do lub him," Dicey rejoined, her eyes once more sparkling with her enthusiasm of the subject. "An' de young ladies—yer ought ter see how dey turns out in dere fine kerridges, all rigged up in finery and foolishness, when he's gwine ter speak. Dey all jes' makes sheep eyes at him all de time, an' he neber takes no notice ob none ob dem."
"That's your way of seeing him, Mammy. I'll wager he's in love with half a dozen girls this very minute. Now begin putting in the daisies, please. Yes, three at a time. Honestly, now, Mammy, crossing your heart and body, you don't think he is as handsome as Morgan, do you?"
"I neber did lak bloo eyes," Dicey answered firmly. "'Specially when dey is light bloo."
"But his are not light blue. They are very dark and beautiful. Wait until you see him close. Now, my wedding dress, Mammy. Isn't it a dream?" Natalia went to the sofa where the wedding finery was displayed. "I brought it all the way from Paris last year. You see, Mammy, it has three skirts."
"Lawdy 'bove us!" cried Dicey, touching the gown gingerly. "Hit's got sho' nuff leabes on hit, hain't hit?"
"Yes, they are arbour-vitae leaves. Millicent has been sewing them on, all day. The design represents the walls of Troy. You know all about that, don't you, Mammy?" she laughed merrily. "You see there is a border on each flounce, and on the waist, too. I saw the Princess Amèlie wear one just like it. Now call Millicent, Mammy, for she will have to help me get into it. And Aunt Maria, too, and ask Mrs. Jervais to bring the jewel box."
Left alone, Natalia peered through the closed blinds into the yard below. From the lights and moving figures, she turned her eyes towards the heavens. There, too, the stars shone in a gay brilliance.
"My wedding night!" She whispered happily. "My wedding night!" She turned away from the window with a strange new excitement rushing over her. Her eyes grew deep black, glowing with intensity. Her face became flushed with a gorgeous colour.
Millicent burst into the room, completely arrayed. "How do I look, Natalia? Do you like the ribbon here, or there? It's so dreadfully hard to decide. Would you believe it—those hateful men have not come yet! I don't believe this ribbon is the right colour, after all. Do you suppose anything has happened to them?"
Natalia looked quickly towards the clock.
"It's only half after seven. The ceremony is at eight," she said slowly—then eagerly, "Perhaps they have come and you didn't know it."
"No, I have just come from Morgan's room, and he is not there. But youmustdress, Natalia," Millicent urged, picking up the wedding gown. "Here—get into this, while I help you. Aren't you glad the leaves look fresh? They are as green as if they had just been picked. Can't you see the girls wondering if they are real? And the wedding bouquet—it's wonderful! Mrs. Houston has just been telling me how it was made. She says she took a stick and covered it with green silk, then she laid sprays of cedar, fan shape, all over that, then in the centre she sewed the cape jessamines, all real close together. It's the most beautiful bouquet I ever saw!" Millicent ended breathlessly.
Natalia made no comment. She stood silently docile while the gown was fastened.
"It is very strange that he should do this way," she murmured to herself, "and he promised me— Perhaps their carriage broke down on the way out!" she exclaimed. "It must be something like that!"
Mrs. Jervais entered the room, her face beaming her approval upon Natalia. In her hand she carried a large, elaborately carved sandal wood box.
"Do you know where they are? Have you heard from them?" Natalia cried, rushing towards her.
Mrs. Jervais answered her with her calm smile.
"Don't worry, clear, they will be here in plenty of time. Nothing has happened, I'm sure. If you knew Lemuel as I do, you'd know that he had taken them all to the Mansion House, where he always gets involved in those eternal political discussions. You know there is much talk now of a war with the Cherokees—so they are trying to settle it, I know. But here are the jewels, Natalia. They have not been opened since your mother's death."
Natalia took the box in her arms, pressing it to her affectionately.
"I have never seen them," she said, taking a key that Judge Houston had brought her that day, and slipping it into the lock. "I always said I would never wear them until I was married." She placed the box on a chair and knelt down before it. "I have always thought," she began, very softly, "that there are a few things that one should wear very seldom—some things only once. I am never going to wear this dress again." She laid her hand softly into the folds of the white tarletan. "I'm going to put it away in the cedar chest after to-night—way up in the attic—and only take it out on my anniversaries, to dream over."
She turned the key in the lock and lifted the lid. Lying on a white velvet lining, grown yellow with age, was a magnificent collection of jewels. There was a necklace formed of oblong pearl medallions, the centre of each filled by a large sapphire; there were ear-rings of the same design which would hang to the wearer's shoulder; four bracelets completed the set. There were several quaint brooches of onyx and pearls and diamonds, and some heavy pieces of white coral, elaborately carved.
Mrs. Houston had entered while Natalia was gazing into the case, and stood just behind her, one hand resting on her shoulder.
"You saw her wear them, Aunt Maria," Natalia murmured, finally. "Then place them on me just as she would have liked them to be."
Leading her up to the cheval glass, the old lady clasped the necklace about her throat, slipped the bracelets far up her arms, and adjusted the ear-rings to her minute satisfaction; leaving for the last the veil, which she pinned to Natalia's blue-black hair with a broad band of sapphires, her own present to the bride, and one that had done duty a century before, along the banks of the James River.
"Now you are wonderfully beautiful, Natalia," she said, giving a last touch and stepping away to gain a better view of the arrangement. "Your eyes have caught the glow of the sapphires. Look at her, Millicent! Isn't she lovely?"
Any one who now sees the portrait of her, painted by Weygant, will realize how beautiful she must have been that night; for the artist seems to have caught, with a remarkable inspiration, the gorgeous depths of her eyes, and even in the canvas one sees the faint, velvety shadows that gradually faded away from her heavy black lashes. This, probably, was what accentuated their brilliancy and gave the effect of an inner, glowing light. As she faced the others and felt their admiration, the excitement rushed over her again, and for a moment she was dazzling.
Dicey was the first to turn from her and gaze towards the window.
"Do you see them coming, Mammy?" Natalia asked, still before the mirror.
"No, ma'am, dey's all done quit comin'," came Dicey's low murmur.
Natalia turned swiftly towards Mrs. Houston, searching her face for some sign of anxiety. She found none.
"You all go downstairs and entertain the people," she said at last. "Mammy will stay here with me until Morgan comes."
"Ido hopethey will come soon," Millicent said, kissing Natalia for the tenth time. "I'm terribly impatient and flustered, and I always get so red in the face when I am excited."
"It will not be long now," Mrs. Houston said cheerfully, "I sent Felix for them an hour ago, and you may be sure he will find them. I'll send you word, dear, as soon as I see them coming."
Left alone with Dicey, Natalia turned slowly back to the mirror and looked at herself a long time. The veil was still thrown back from her face, and in the soft glow of the candles, the reflection gained a vague, misty charm.
During the long silence the sound of fiddling floated up to the room. Surely he had come now! That was the reason for the music. As she listened, the music faded softly and finally stopped altogether. Still there was no sound of a carriage on the driveway. Finally she sank into a chair and looked at Dicey, who was peering intently through the shutters. Then she glanced at the clock. It was exactly eight—the marriage hour. The fiddling began again, and mingling with it, the sounds of laughter in the garden and the swishing of silks along the veranda.
She rose from the chair, walking about the room, while the clock ticked off the minutes relentlessly. In the stillness of the room her voice sounded harsh and unnatural.
"Mammy—do you see him coming?"
Dicey did not answer nor move from her position.
"Mammy—come here!"
The old slave held up her hand cautiously.
"Wait—I sees er kerridge."
Natalia laughed happily.
"How foolish I've been! I was actually getting nervous!"
"Dey is drivin' mighty slow—sh-h—dar's er man lyin' 'cross de back seat—sumthin's done happen."
Natalia rushed toward the window and threw the shutters wide apart. In the glow of the illuminations she saw the occupants of the carriage distinctly. Judge Houston and another man sat on the front seat; on the back seat, lying outstretched, was a limp figure, the face covered with a handkerchief.
She rushed to the door and out into the hall, pausing half-way down the steps when she saw the men carrying the helpless form into the parlour. She stood there, as if frozen lifeless, the crowded hall unseen, the curious glances of the guests unnoticed. Then, when the muffled stillness was broken by a shriek, she moved one step further. It was Mrs. Jervais' voice that had resounded through the crowded house.
It was then that Judge Houston came out of the parlour and closed the door after him. Signalling the crowd to fall back, he went towards the steps. Natalia had reached him now, her hands clinging to him in sudden trembling.
"Is it Morgan—in there?"
The old gentleman shook his head, and looking down into Natalia's pallid, quivering face framed by the wedding veil, he drew her close to him.
"No—it is Lemuel Jervais."
"And Morgan—where is he?"
Judge Houston did not reply at once. Putting his arm about Natalia, and motioning away the staring crowd, he led her down the hall to a deserted place on the back veranda, where the wedding supper was already on the table and the candles blazing.
"They had a difficulty over cards—Morgan and Jervais," the old gentleman spoke in a low voice. "When I got there Lemuel was—dead. If I could only have gotten there sooner!" he ended, his whole figure shaking with emotion.
Natalia leaned heavily against the wall.
"Where is Morgan?" she finally asked.
"There was only one place for him to go to—the jail. It seems to have been a very bitter fight,—the slavery question was at the back of it,—you know the type of Jervais' followers. I knew the jail was the only safe place for him—I was powerless to stem the crowd."
"Is he safe—now?"
"Yes."
Suddenly Natalia tore the veil from her head and threw it away from her.
"Will you take me to him, Uncle Felix—now—at once?"
The old gentleman drew back, startled by her vehemence.
"Not to-night, Natalia. It is no place for you."
For a second her eyes flashed into his.
"If he is in danger I want to face it with him! Will you go with me? Or shall I go alone?"