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."