THE FIRST WEDDING.
“Do you love him, Arley?”
“Why, my darling Lily of Mordaunt! how can you ask such a question? Do
you suppose I should have accepted him if I had not?”
“I hope not--I trust not; yet I--it is very unexpected to me--it
seems very strange,” sighed the gentle Elaine, a perplexed expression
clouding her lovely face.
She had been perfectly amazed when Philip Paxton made known the fact of
his engagement to Arley, and as soon as she could catch her by herself,
she assailed her with the above question, while her heart was filled
with a strange foreboding on her account.
She had grown to feel a deep and abiding love for the bright and
interesting girl, who, though nearly two years older than herself,
appeared to be that much younger; and Arley seemed to reciprocate this
affection, notwithstanding that until very recently they had been
utter strangers to each other.
One day she impulsively threw her arms around Lady Elaine’s neck, and
exclaimed:
“How I wish you were my sister! You have no idea how I have always
longed for a sister, and if the fates had only given you to me I should
be supremely happy.”
“Why, how singular! I have often wished the same thing since I became
acquainted with you,” returned the Lily of Mordaunt, with a look of
surprise.
“Perhaps the fact that we are both orphans has caused it,” she added,
after a moment; “but I must confess, Arley, that I have never seen any
one who has won her way so securely into my heart as you have done.”
“That ought to make me very happy, and it does, dear,” Arley returned,
kissing her with tears in her eyes.
“I should have had a sister if she had lived,” Lady Elaine resumed,
“and she would have been just about your age, too. It has been a source
of great sorrow to me that she could not have been spared.”
“How old was she when she died?” Arley asked.
“A mere baby, not two years old, and I never saw her, because she died
before I was born; but I was never weary of hearing mamma talk about
her. She was entirely different from me, too, resembling mamma, who
had dark hair and eyes, while I am a thorough Mordaunt in form, and
feature, and complexion.”
“What a strange world this is!” Arley remarked, reflectively; “some
people have so many to love them and others so few. But, dear Elaine, I
am happy to have won your affection, and I hope that this friendship,
which amounts almost to sisterhood, will last throughout our whole
life.”
“I know of nothing that would cause me greater pain than to have it
broken,” Lady Elaine said, with a little sigh of apprehension, as she
thought of Philip, and wondered how this marriage with Arley would
affect it in the future.
“Let us put a seal upon it,” she added, eagerly, after a moment; “let
us exchange rings, Arley. You have a queer twisted ring on your third
finger that I have admired ever since I first saw it; let me have it,
and I will give you this in return,” and she drew off a lovely emerald
surrounded by tiny pearls as she spoke.
“No, indeed, Elaine; that would not be a fair exchange at all,” Arley
opposed. “That is a very costly ring, while mine, though exceedingly
odd, is a simple affair, which I bought as a guard to this diamond that
grandpa gave me two years ago.”
“Never mind; I want it,” persisted Lady Elaine, “and I want you to have
this; so, if there are no precious associations connected with it, put
it here on this finger, and let me put mine upon yours.”
She held out her slender hand as she ceased speaking, and Arley
obediently slipped the twisted ring upon the third finger.
Then taking Arley’s hand, she put the emerald above the diamond.
“With this ring I wed thee, dear,” she said, with a fond smile, but
with a little tremulousness in her tones; “so remember that you are my
especial friend for all time, in sickness or in health, for better or
for worse, it will be all the same--be sure that you never forget it,
Arley.”
Arley Wentworth kissed her with trembling lips.
“You would compel any one to love you almost against their will,” she
said, “but I certainly never shall forget.”
* * * * *
The next two weeks passed so pleasantly and harmoniously, the three
pairs of lovers were so devoted and apparently so happy in each other,
that an observer would undoubtedly have augured a life of uninterrupted
bliss for them all.
At the end of that time Philip Paxton said he must return to London,
for his business required his attention, but at Wil’s request he
promised to run down to Hazelmere every Saturday and spend the Sabbath
as long as Arley should remain a guest there.
Annie Hamilton would not consent to spare her friend until after the
wedding, which was to occur now in about a month.
The four weeks seemed actually to melt away, and were gone almost
before they realized it, and the important day dawned bright and fair.
The bride was, of course, lovely in white satin, with the usual
accompaniments--the mistlike veil and pure fragrant orange-blossoms;
while the two bridesmaids--Lady Elaine, in her rich, cream-white silk,
garnished with wreaths of forget-me-nots and pearls, and Arley, in pale
pink, with great Marechal Neil roses drooping gracefully here and there
amid folds of frostlike lace--were almost, if not quite, as attractive
as the gentle bride herself.
Wil Hamilton and Philip Paxton were, of course, the “best men,” and
both made a fine, manly appearance.
The wedding breakfast was pronounced “elegant,” and everything passed
off in the smoothest and most approved manner.
The gifts were numerous and costly, and, altogether, pretty Annie
Hamilton seemed to begin life with every prospect of future happiness
and prosperity.
Then came the farewells and confusion of departure, and the happy pair
left Hazelmere for a tour of a month, after which they were to take up
their residence in their own home, which was not far from Sir Anthony’s
estate.
Three days later Arley bade her friends “good-by” and returned to
London, where she was to make immediate preparations for her own
marriage, since Philip Paxton insisted that there was no reason why it
should be delayed, and had fixed the event for the 24th of October.
Lady Elaine promised to go up to London to spend the last fortnight
with her, and all the Hamiltons were to be present at the very quiet
wedding.