It was a sparkling August morning--one of those rare days when all

nature seems jubilant. The waters of the bay glittered like a sheet

of molten silver; the soft Southern breeze sang through the

treetops, and the cloudless sky wore that deep shade of pure blue

which is nowhere so beautiful as in our sunny South. Clad in a dress

of spotless white, with her luxuriant hair braided and twined with

white flowers, Beulah stood beside her window, looking out into the

street below. Her hands were clasped tightly over her heart, and on

one slender finger blazed a costly diamond, the seal of her

betrothal. She was very pale; now and then her lips quivered, and

her lashes were wet with tears. Yet this was her marriage day.

She had just risen from her knees, and her countenance told of a

troubled heart. She loved her guardian above everything else; knew

that, separated from him, life would be a dreary blank to her; yet,

much as she loved him, she could not divest herself of a species of

fear, of dread. The thought of being his wife filled her with vague

apprehension. He had hastened the marriage; the old place had been

thoroughly repaired and refurnished, and this morning she would go

home a wife. She clasped her hands over her eyes; the future looked

fearful.

She knew the passionate, exacting nature of the man with

whose destiny she was about to link her own, and she shrank back, as

the image of Creola rose before her. The door opened, and Mrs.

Asbury entered, accompanied by Dr. Hartwell. The orphan looked up,

and leaned heavily against the window. Mrs. Asbury broke the

silence.

"They are waiting for you, my dear. The minister came some moments

ago. The clock has struck ten."

She handed her a pair of gloves from the table, and stood in the

door, waiting for her. Beulah drew them on, and then, with a long

breath, glanced at Dr. Hartwell. He looked restless, and, she

thought, sterner, than she had seen him since his return. He was

very pale and his lips were compressed firmly.

"You look frightened, Beulah. You tremble," said he, drawing her arm

through his and fixing his eyes searchingly on her face. "Yes. Oh,

yes. I believe I am frightened," she answered, with a constrained

smile.

She saw his brow darken and his cheek flush; but he said no more,

and led her down to the parlor, where the members of the family were

assembled. Claudia and Eugene were also present. The minister met

them in the center of the room; and there, in the solemn hush, a few

questions were answered, a plain band of gold encircled her finger,

and the deep tones of the clergyman pronounced her Guy Hartwell's

wife. Eugene took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly,

whispering: "God bless you, dear sister and friend! I sincerely hope that your

married life will prove happier than mine."




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