Hunsdon did not give up the siege, and rode out daily, much to the
complacency of Miss Ogilvy, to whom Anne contrived to turn him over.
Lady Constance, who found Medora amusing, was still further amused by
the subtle currents beneath the surface, blind only to the shrewd
young Colonial's court of herself, and was finally inspired to invite
her to London for the season. Miss Ogilvy, in her own way, was as
happy as Anne. A younger sister was returning from England and could
take over her duties at the Grange; Lady Mary, riding dashingly about
the island with the spirit of eighteen, was caught in a shower,
neglected to change her garments at once, had a fever, and arose as
yellow as a lemon; Medora was nineteen and as white as an amaryllis.
The day of the wedding arrived. Never was there such a ringing of
bells, so splendid an array of equipages and gowns. Fig Tree Church
could hardly hold the planters and their wives, the guests from Bath
House, as well as those from St. Kitts, and the Byams and Warners that
had sailed over from half a dozen islands. Outside, the churchyard,
the road, the fields were crowded with the coloured folk, humble and
ambitious. Bonnets and parasols gave this dense throng the effect of a
moving tropical garden, and if the women were too mindful of their new
manners to shout as the Ogilvy coach rolled past containing the bride
hardly visible under clouds of tulle, the men set up a wild roar as
they caught sight of Warner hastily approaching the rear of the church
by a side path. Mr. Ogilvy gave the bride away, Lord Hunsdon was best
man, and Medora the only bridesmaid. Anne had pleaded for a quiet
wedding at the Grange, but to this her young hostess would not harken;
and the festival was vastly to her credit, from the beautiful
decorations of the chancel to the wedding-breakfast at the Grange.
Lord Hunsdon was much interested to learn that the dainty, varied, and
appetising repast was ordered and partly cooked by the accomplished
creature beside him--whose eyes certainly had a most attractive
Oriental slant. It so happened that his lordship was deeply concerned
with the Orient, and hoped that the cares of state, now that the
Tories were safely planted, would permit him to visit it.
The negroes were dined on a platform in one of the bare cane fields,
and danced afterward until the bridal party started for the beach
before Charlestown; then all, high and low, followed in the wake of
the Grange coach with its four horses decorated with white ribbons and
driven by postillions. One of the wedding presents had been a fine
little sloop, and in it Warner and his bride set off at four in the
afternoon, almost the entire population of Nevis, white and black,
crowding the sands and cheering good will.
* * * * *
That honeymoon among the islands was so replete with beauty and bliss
and the fulfilment of every romantic and ardent dream, that when it
was finished it was almost a relief to Anne to adjust her faculties to
the homely details of housekeeping. For two months they wandered
amongst that chain of enchanted islands set in a summer sea, the
sympathetic trade winds filling their sails and tempering the heat on
shore. St. Thomas with its little city on three hills like a painted
fairy tale; St. Croix with its old Spanish arcades and palm avenues;
the red-roofed Dutch village in the green crater of St. Bartholomew,
which shot straight out of the sea without a hand's width of shore;
Antigua with its English landscapes and tropical hospitality; St.
Lucia, looking like an exploded mountain chain, that had caught the
bright plains and forests of another island while the earth was in its
throes, green as a shattered emerald by day, flaming with the long
torches of gigantic fireflies by night; St. Vincent with its smoking
volcanoes and rich plantations; Martinique, that bit of old France,
with its almost perpendicular flights of street-steps cut in the rock,
lined with ancient houses; beautiful honey-coloured women always
passing up and down with tall jars or baskets on their stately heads;
Dominica, with its rugged mountains, roaring cataracts, and brilliant
verdure; Trinidad, with its terrible cliffs, infinitely coloured
valleys, mountain masses; its groves of citron, and hedges of scarlet
hybiscus and white hydrangea, towns set in the green amphitheatres of
gentle hills, impenetrable forests, and lakes of boiling pitch:
Warner and Anne lingered on all of them, climbed to the summit of
volcanoes hidden in the clouds and gazed into awful craters evil of
smell and resounding with the menace of deep, imprisoned, persistent
tides; sailed on the quiet lake in the crater of Mt. Pelée; rode on
creole ponies for days through scented chromatic forests with serrated
heights frowning above them, and companioned by birds as vivid as the
flowers and as silent. There were no wild beasts, nothing to mar days
and nights so heavy laden with beauty that Anne wondered if the cold
North existed on the same planet, and sometimes longed for the scent
of English violets. In Trinidad they were entertained in great state
by the most distinguished of Warner's relatives, a high official of
the island. Anne wore for an evening the famous ring, and was nearly
prostrated with excitement and the fear of losing it. If she had not
been half drugged with happiness and the ineffable beauty which
scarcely for a moment deserted her waking senses, she would have
attempted to define the quiver of terror that crossed her nerves now
and again; for life at white heat has been embolismal since the death
of the gods. As to Warner, he who had written many poems, now devoted
himself to living one, and achieved a perfect success.