He arranged quiet strolls to the country--little excursions here and
there with himself as my sole companion--and many sweet happy days of
unsullied pleasure I passed in his society.
One sultry morning, to my delight, he came in an open carriage, saying
that the atmosphere was so heated he would drive me out of town to a
charming little village with which he was familiar.
The prospect of such a jaunt was to me indeed agreeable; and as he
liked to see me in becoming dress, I arrayed myself in white, placed
a fillet of pale blue ribbon round my hair and a bouquet of blue
forget-me-nots in the bosom of my dress, and thus adorned set forth,
sitting by Richard’s side.
I was as happy as a young queen; all the black suspicions which had
darkened my horizon were absorbed in the fierce heat of that summer
morning. His beauty, his fascinating smile, his lively conversation,
filled me with rapture.
Arrived at the village, we stopped at a small but pretty tavern and
alighted. While I entered the dwelling Richard drove his horses under
shelter. He soon joined me, looking much disconcerted.
“Agnes, my darling, what shall we do? We cannot ride back to-night; the
carriage is out of order, and I fear the horse is injured by the heat
and rapid driving.”
“O Richard, I must return home to-night!” I answered decidedly.
“Well, I will see what can be done, but we will rest awhile and take
some refreshments.”
A delightful half hour passed while we were regaling ourselves with
country fare and looking at the strange place from the window of the
little inn. Then Richard proposed that we should walk out while waiting
for repairs to our vehicle. Together we strolled through the quiet
lanes and open commons till we came upon a pretty, unpretending church,
half hidden in ivy and creeping vines. The door stood open. “Come,”
said he, “let us go in.” I followed him in. To my surprise I discovered
a clergyman in his robes at the altar. Richard whispered in my ear some
words which I could not understand and their import I could only guess
at, but his tender manner brought the hot blood to my face.
“Agnes,” he continued, speaking with quiet determination; “you must
be mine; everything is in readiness. We cannot return to-night; Fate
ordains it!”
It did appear to me that Fate, as he said, ordained the events which
followed that country drive. All the love and sentiment of my nature
was aroused; but reason told my intoxicated senses that I must not act
without forethought, so I shook my head to his passionate urgency and
endeavored to withdraw. But my companion pressed me gently back into an
open pew, and hastened past me up the aisle.
A rapid conversation then took place between himself and the clergyman,
who, after casting his eyes in my direction, went to his desk and took
up his prayer-book.
Richard returned with quick steps to where I was sitting.
“Come,” said he, smiling; “he is waiting.”
Startled and trembling, I made no answer save an effort to reach the
door.
“For heaven’s sake, Agnes, do not make a scene! Recover your usual
good sense. Do you not see that it is best?” whispered Richard, with
earnestness almost fierce.
And so hurried, flushed and doubting, overcome with heat and
excitement, I permitted myself to be led to the altar.
The ceremony soon ended. As the clerk shut his book and we turned to
depart, I could not realize that this abrupt, informal marriage was a
reality. As I passed down the aisle, a white, fluttering, impalpable,
and yet clearly-defined form arose from one of the empty seats, and
unobstructed by carved wood or heavy upholstery, passed out through
frame and plaster! The slight figure, the golden hair, I remembered too
well--it was that of the _ghost of Bristed Hall_!
I clenched Richard’s arm so that he muttered an oath, and said sharply,
“My God, Agnes, what are you doing?”
“Did you not see that figure? It passed straight through the wall,” I
whispered in affright.
“Move on--none of your d--d nonsense, Agnes,” said Richard, scowling;
then hastily adding, “Excuse me, love, you confuse me. My happiness
makes me forget myself.”
My mind surged with conflicting emotions. I felt a secret joy in the
knowledge that I was united to the man I loved. This romantic, half
run-away match pleased the romance of my nature, and yet I was unable
to resist the feeling that I had done wrong. A strange foreboding of
evil intruded upon my joy.
Richard that evening was gay almost to wildness. “O Agnes! Agnes! we
have outwitted them, the fools! They thought they had conquered me, but
you are mine, and I have won!”
He talked so disconnectedly, I thought he had taken too much wine.
Indeed, to this he owned.
“I could drink flask after flask of it, I am so happy!” he exclaimed.
We were happy that night and drove home in the cool of the morning.
It was arranged that our marriage should for the present be kept
private, as Richard thought if it were known it might disorganize my
school.