NELLIE'S BRIDAL NIGHT.
The blind girl sat alone in her chamber, listening to the sound of
merry voices in the hall without, or the patter of feet, as the fast
arriving guests tripped up and down the stairs. She had heard the
voice of J.C. De Vere as he passed her door, but it awoke within her
bosom no lingering regret, and when an hour later Nellie stood
before her, arrayed in her bridal robes, she passed her hand
caressingly over the flowing curls, the fair, round face, the satin
dress, and streaming veil, saying as she did so, "I know you are
beautiful, my sister, and if a blind girl's blessing can be of any
avail, you have it most cordially."
Both Mrs. Kennedy and Nellie had urged Maude to be present at the
ceremony, but she shrank from the gaze of strangers, and preferred
remaining in her room, an arrangement quite satisfactory to J.C.,
who did not care to meet her then. It seemed probable that some of
the guests would go up to see her, and knowing this, Mrs. Kennedy
had arranged her curls and dress with unusual care, saying to her as
she kissed her pale cheek, "You are far more beautiful than the
bride."
And Maude was beautiful. Recent suffering and non-exposure to the
open air had imparted a delicacy to her complexion which harmonized
well with the mournful expression of her face and the idea of
touching helplessness which her presence inspired. Her long, fringed
eyelashes rested upon her cheek, and her short, glossy curls were
never more becomingly arranged than now, when stepping backward a
pace or two, Mrs. Kennedy stopped a moment to admire her again ere
going below where her presence was already needed.
The din of voices grew louder in the hall, there was a tread of many
feet upon the stairs, succeeded by a solemn hush, and Maude,
listening to every sound, knew that the man to whom she had been
plighted was giving to another his marriage vow. She had no love for
J.C. De Vere, but as she sat there alone in her desolation, and
thoughts of her sister's happiness rose up in contrast to her own
dark, hopeless lot, who shall blame her if she covered her face with
her hands and wept most bitterly. Poor Maude! It was dark, dark
night within, and dark, dark night without; and her dim eye could
not penetrate the gloom, nor see the star which hung o'er the brow
of the distant hill, where a wayworn man was toiling on. Days and
nights had he traveled, unmindful of fatigue, while his throbbing
heart outstripped the steam-god by many a mile. The letter had
fulfilled its mission, and with one wild burst of joy when he read
that she was free, he started for the North. He was not expected at
the wedding, but it would be a glad surprise, he knew, and he
pressed untiringly on, thinking but one thought, and that, how he
would comfort the poor, blind Maude. He did not know that even then
her love belonged to him, but he could win it, perhaps, and then
away to sunny France, where many a wonderful cure had been wrought,
and might be wrought again.
The bridal was over, and the congratulations nearly so; when a
stranger was announced, an uninvited guest, and from his armchair in
the corner Louis saw that it was the same kind face which had bent
so fearlessly over his pillow little more than six months before.
James De Vere--the name was echoed from lip to lip, but did not
penetrate the silent chamber where Maude sat weeping yet.
A rapid glance through the rooms assured the young man that she was
not there: and when the summons to supper was given he went to Louis
and asked him for his sister.
"She is upstairs," said Louis, adding impulsively: "she will be glad
you have come, for she has talked of you so much."
"Talked of me!" and the eyes of James De Vere looked earnestly into
Louis' face. "And does she talk of me still?"
"Yes," said Louis, "I heard her once when she was asleep, though I
ought not to have mentioned it," he continued, suddenly recollecting
himself, "for when I told her, she blushed so red, and bade me not
to tell."
"Take me to her, will you?" said Mr. De Vere, and following his
guide he was soon opposite the door of Maude's room.
"Wait a moment," he exclaimed, passing his fingers through his hair,
and trying in vain to brush from his coat the dust which had settled
there.
"It don't matter, for she can't see," said Louis, who comprehended
at once the feelings of his companion.
By this time they stood within the chamber, but so absorbed was
Maude in her own grief that she did not hear her brother until he
bent over her and whispered in her ear, "Wake, sister, if you're
sleeping. He's come. He's here!"
She had no need to ask of him who had come. She knew intuitively,
and starting up, her unclosed eyes flashed eagerly around the room,
turning at last toward the door where she felt that he was standing.
James De Vere remained motionless, watching intently the fair,
troubled face, which had never seemed so fair to him, before.
"Brother, have you deceived me? Where is he?" she said at last, as
her listening ear caught no new sound.
"Here, Maude, here," and gliding to her side, Mr. De Vere wound his
arm around her, and kissing her lips, called her by the name to
which she was getting accustomed, and which never sounded so
soothingly as when breathed by his melodious voice. "My poor, blind
Maude," was all he said, but by the clasp of his warm hand, by the
tear she felt upon her cheek, and by his very silence, she knew how
deeply he sympathized with her.
Knowing that they would rather be alone, Louis went below, where
many inquiries were making for the guest who had so suddenly
disappeared. The interview between the two was short, for some of
Maude's acquaintance came up to see her, but it sufficed for Mr. De
Vere to learn all that he cared particularly to know then. Maude did
not love J.C., whose marriage with another caused her no regret, and
this knowledge made the future seem hopeful and bright. It was not
the time to speak of that future to her, but he bade her take
courage, hinting that his purse, should never be closed until every
possible means had been used for the restoration of her sight. What
wonder, then, if she dreamed that night that she could see again,
and, that the good angel by whose agency this blessing had been
restored to her was none other than James De Vere.