And Guy did think again, and his thoughts went across the sea after the
beautiful Daisy, and he tried to picture to himself what she must be,
now that education and culture had set their seal upon her. But always
in the picture there was a dark background, where cousin Tom stood
sentinel with his bags of gold, and so, with a half-unconscious sigh for
what "might have been," Guy dug still deeper the grave where years
before he had buried his love for Daisy, and to make the burial sure
this time, so that there should be no future resurrection, he put over
the grave a head-stone on which were written a new hope and a new love,
both of which centered in Julia Hamilton. And so they were engaged, and
after that there was no wavering on his part--no looking back to a past
which seemed like a happy dream from which there had been a horrible
awaking.
He loved Julia at first quietly and sensibly, and loved her more and
more as the winter and spring went by and brought the day when he stood
again at the altar and for the second time took upon him the marriage
vow. It was a very quiet wedding, with only a few friends present, and
Miss Frances was the bridesmaid, in a gown of silver gray; but Julia's
face was bright with the certainty of a happiness long desired; and if
in Guy's heart there lingered the odor of other bridal flowers, withered
now and dead, and the memory of other marriage bells than those which
sent their music on the air that summer morning, and if a pair of sunny
blue eyes looked into his instead of Julia's darker ones, he made no
sign, and his face wore an expression of perfect content as he took his
second bride for better or worse, just as he once had taken little
Daisy. In her case it had proved all for the worse, but now there was a
suitableness in the union which boded future happiness, and many a
hearty wish for good was sent after the newly married pair, whose
destination was New York.
It was nearly dark when they reached the hotel and quite dark before
dinner was over. Then Julia suddenly remembered that an old friend of
hers was boarding in the house, and suggested going to her room.
"I'd send my card," she said blushingly, "only she would not know me by
the new name, so if you do not mind my leaving you a moment I'll go and
find her myself."
Guy did not mind, and Julia went out and left him alone. Scarcely was
she gone when he called to mind a letter which had been forwarded to him
from Cuylerville, and which he had found awaiting him on his return from
the church. Not thinking it of much consequence he had thrust it in his
pocket and in the excitement forgotten it till now. He had dressed for
dinner and worn his wedding coat, and he took the letter out and looked
at it a moment, and wondered whom it was from, as people ofttimes do
wait and wonder, when breaking the seal would settle the wonder so soon.
It was postmarked in New York, and felt heavy in his hand, and he opened
it at last and found that the outer envelope inclosed another one on
which his name and address were written in a handwriting once so
familiar to him, and the sight of which made him start and breathe
heavily for a moment as if the air had suddenly grown thick and
burdensome.