A TALK OF WEDDINGS.
"You must decide and answer me, Jaqueline. You know I love you. The
marriage would be pleasing to both sides of the family. My holiday is
over, and I must rejoin my chief. I want the matter settled. If you
are not convinced that you can love me, I shall take it as a sign that
there is very little hope for me--none at all, in fact--and go my way."
There was something rather stern in the tone, and the pretty girl's
humor protested. She liked the tender wooing, the graceful compliments,
the sort of uncertainty when she could salve her conscience by saying
she was not really engaged and feel compelled to hold herself aloof
from certain attentions. For whatever coquetries a Virginia girl might
indulge in, an engagement was sacred.
"I do wonder if you really love me?" She longed to temporize. There
was always something happening, and now there was to be a week's party
at Annapolis and a ball and several sailing excursions. Business would
interfere with his going. If she could keep free until after that!
He looked at her steadily. "If you doubt it after my year of devotion,
I hardly know how to convince you. Words will not do it. You _must_
believe it."
"For it would be a sad thing for either of us to make a mistake," she
returned plaintively.
"You asked for three months to consider. And yet you admitted that you
cared for me even then. If your love has not increased any in that time
it certainly argues ill for me. And now it must be a plain answer, yes
or no. It is foolish to trifle this way. Which is it, Jaqueline?"
He took both her hands in his and impelled her to meet his eyes. Her
face was scarlet, her eyes drooped, her expression was so beseeching
that it almost conquered him as it had times before. But he was going
away with Mr. Monroe, and it would be a month before he saw her again.
"Yes or no!"
"You are cruel." Her eyes filled with tears. She felt his hands
tremble, strong as they were.
"Then it must be no, if you cannot say yes. Jaqueline, I am more than
sorry. You are the first girl that ever roused in me the sweet desire
to have her for my very own. I may never find another to whom I can
give the same regard. But I want no unwilling bride."
He dropped the hands reluctantly. He half turned, as if that was final.
"Roger----"
She so often evaded his name. What an entrancing sound it had! And it
softened him.
"You are so masterful," and her voice had a little break in it. "I am
afraid I could not be a meek, silly wife with no mind of her own, but
a mocking-bird echo of her husband's. When I feel quite sure I love
you----"
"Is there any such blessed moment?" He took her in his arms. "I have
sometimes felt in my inmost soul there was, and this certainly pays
for hours of doubt. I do not care to have you meek; and silly women I
abhor. I only want this one point settled. After that you will find me
devoted to your slightest whims."
"Then I suppose I must----" with a fascinating reluctance.
"There is no compulsion. You either give me your sweet, fresh girl's
soul to bloom in the garden of manhood's unalterable love, freely and
rejoicingly, or I go my solitary way."
"Do not go. I could not spare you. Are you quite sure you will not
prove a tyrant?"
For answer he kissed her, then held her in a gentle yet strong embrace.
"And you love me?"
"Oh, how hard you are to satisfy!"
"Still, you will say it?"
"I love you. Will that satisfy your lordship? Now if I were a princess
you could not be so hard to satisfy. A nod would answer."
"You are _my_ princess. Now let us go and find your father. I am afraid
he has had a rather low opinion of my powers of persuasion."
They were under the great plane tree. Annis was taking a lesson in
hemstitching at her mother's knee.
"We have come for your blessing," began the happy lover.
"Which I give gladly. I could not have chosen better for Jaqueline if I
had gone half over the world, or at least a son-in-law more acceptable
to myself. If I wish you as much happiness as I have had, your cup will
be full."
Mrs. Mason rose and kissed the girl with fervent affection. "We all
like him so," she whispered to Jaqueline. "Your father will be as happy
as your lover."
"Come and give us joy, little Annis. I hope Charles won't protest at
your having a new brother."
"But he likes you so," answered the child simply. "And you never tease
him."
"Charles must learn not to be such a ninny," declared his father.
The supper was almost a betrothal feast. For a wonder, there were no
guests. But before bedtime every slave on the plantation knew it, and
great was the rejoicing. And the next morning numerous little gifts
were brought for Jaqueline's acceptance. And now Roger hated to go
away. How could he be content with this one brief sup of happiness?
"We must go up to the Pineries," Mr. Mason said. "Your grandmother
would feel hurt if she were not informed at once. And--are you going
next week?"
"Oh, of course. I even asked Mr. Carrington. Was not that dutiful?"
Her father laughed. "Jaqueline, you need a strong hand. You have had
your way too much."
"I don't know why everyone thinks I ought to be ruled like a baby," she
pouted.
"Jack, you are going to have one of the best husbands. Remember that."
It was not until afternoon that they started, and were to remain all
night. As there was room for one more, Annis went with them. It hardly
seemed like the same place, Jaqueline thought, and she decided she
liked grandpapa much better than Uncle Brandon. He insisted upon the
relationship having the right name, and was quite as great a stickler
for attention as his father had been; but where Mr. Floyd's was really
a fine old-fashioned dignity, Brandon's seemed more pretentious.
His wife was one of the ordinary women of that day, whose duty under
all circumstances was to her husband. Master Archie put on many
consequential airs.
"I am glad you are going to do so well," said grandmother. "The
Carringtons are a good family, and their father left a nice property,
which must be very valuable. I must look among my treasures and see
what I can spare for you. Dolly had my rubies--they were her choice;
and my pearls were for Marian. That was a sad and sore disappointment
to us all. There seems very little hope of amendment in the case."
Jaqueline and Marian walked up and down in the fragrant twilight.
"You don't mean that you still consider yourself engaged?" queried the
young girl in surprise.
"But nothing has been said, and I don't know what can be said now. You
see, papa made his will quite a long while ago, and when there was the
talk about Lieutenant Ralston he said if I encouraged him--if I married
against his wishes--he would not leave me anything, and everybody
should know it was because I had been a disobedient, ungrateful child.
Think of having it read out before all the relatives! And you know
he did not alter the will. He gave Jane less because he had given her
part of her portion on her wedding day. Jane had it very easy, I think,
considering that Mr. Jettson had no fortune to speak of except those
Washington marshes. But Jane's had a nice time and plenty of friends.
Only, you see, now I feel bound by the will. Papa trusted me. He had
a feeling that Mr. Greaves might recover--he was so strong, and had
always been well. But we never talked it over, for no one really was
thinking of papa's death."
"Do you know, Marian, I consider you a very foolish
girl--superstitious, as well? No one can expect you to marry Mr.
Greaves," said Jaqueline emphatically.
"Of course not now. But if he should have his mind a little while and
give me up, I should feel quite free, you know."
"And you mean to wait for that?" indignantly.
"I am not _waiting_. Papa has been dead such a little while that it
would be indecent to traverse his wishes at once. And Mr. Greaves
loved me, he really did; you need not look so incredulous! Not like--a
younger man, perhaps," making a little halt. "He planned so many things
for my pleasure. We were to go to England. He and papa agreed so well
on politics."
"And you are an American girl! Please don't forget that grandmother's
father was at the surrender of Cornwallis, and we are all proud of
it! He is your ancestor, too. And the Masons were all on the side of
liberty and a country for ourselves."
"I think women are not much concerned in politics," she replied
evasively. "But it _is_ pleasanter to have all your people of one
belief. It does seem as if the Church should have something to do with
the government. I don't understand it, but it appears Christian and
proper."
"After all, it is the people who make the country, and the Church too.
And it ought to be what the people want, the majority of them."
Jaqueline's tone carried a penetrating conviction, yet Marian
steeled her heart against it. The people certainly were an aggregate
of individuals; and if everyone insisted upon having his own way,
anarchy must ensue. But she could not reason on the subject, even in
Jaqueline's girlish fashion. Argument was reprehensible in women.
"Then you just mean to wait!" There was an accent of disappointment in
Jaqueline's tone.
"There is nothing else to do. I certainly must respect papa's wishes."
"You've changed so, Marian."
"Remember, Jaqueline, I am years older than you," she replied with
dignity. "And now I have to be mother's companion. She misses father
very much. I'm glad to have you happy, and everyone is pleased with
your engagement. It is a very excellent one."
"The excellence wouldn't go very far if it did not please me," returned
the younger girl. "My happiness and pleasure are a personal affair, not
simply the satisfaction of others."
"I hope you will be very happy," reiterated Marian. "Dolly is. Mother
thinks her letters are quite frivolous; they are all about dinners and
visits and parties. She doesn't go to the very gay ones, but she writes
about them. Charleston must be quite as fashionable as Washington,
to judge from the gowns and entertainments. But Dolly is not keeping
house, though she has her rooms and her maid."
Then the two girls lapsed into silence as they walked up and down.
Jaqueline was thinking that next week Lieutenant Ralston would be her
cavalier, and she had ardently wished to reawaken hope in his breast,
in the place of the disesteem in which he held Marian--indeed, nearly
all women; though he occasionally said: "I can't imagine you or Mrs.
Jettson doing such a thing!" That was really flattering. Of course she
should tell him of _her_ engagement, and they would still be friends.
Louis was to be of the party, and they started off in high spirits.
"Jaqueline ought to sober down a little," said her father. "And there
is no need of a long engagement. The Carringtons will be anxious for
the marriage--well," laughingly, "more anxious than we. But I think
most men are pleased when their daughters marry well. And we have
four."
"We need not think of the younger ones for several years," Mrs. Mason
said with a smile.
"Varina ought to go to school somewhere, or to Aunt Catharine. Patty
improved wonderfully. And Charles----"
"I think Charles is doing very well. Louis admits that he studies
beyond his years. And he seems to me not over-robust. I would certainly
wait another year."
Jaqueline begged her brother to say nothing about the engagement. It
was so recent, and she would not be married in some time.
"You'll be flirting with everybody."
"Oh, don't grudge me a week's pleasure! After that I will be as staid
as any grandmother."
"Carrington isn't the fellow to stand much nonsense when the rights are
all on his side. I advise you to be careful."
"Why, I am going to be, even now. Of course Mr. Ralston is different
from the others. We have been friends so long."
Ralston was safe enough, Louis thought. And one couldn't quite blame
Jaqueline. She did not flirt openly like Betty Fairfax; and now Betty
was devotion itself to her lover, and she was to be married in the
early autumn. In fact, Louis had not felt satisfied to be so entirely
crowded out when he had been one of Betty's favorites.
Girls were queer, he mused. Then he threw himself into the round of
pleasures, which in those days were really made for enjoyment. No
one thought of being bored. The world was fresh and young, and had
not been traversed by theories and sciences and experiences of tired
generations. Everyone felt he or she had a right to at least one
draught of the nectar of youth.
Lieutenant Ralston had come with the hope that Jaqueline would bring
him some message to light the future. Of course if Marian had been
married that would have been the end of all things. He had too fine
a sense of honor to covet another man's wife. But it seemed as if
Providence had intervened. Mr. Floyd was dead and Mr. Greaves out of
the lists by a stroke of fate. And since Marian was free, he was at
liberty to give his fancy unlimited play once more.
Jaqueline was indignant that Marian had not gladly grasped her liberty,
but still hugged the chain of another's selecting. Perhaps her feelings
colored her words, although she strove to be fair and make allowance
for the superstitious reverence in which the girl seemed to hold her
father. Or was it really fear?
"I thought I had not hoped any, but circumstances coming out this way
seemed an interposition in my behalf," admitted Mr. Ralston. "And I
found it very easy to go back to that delightful experience. Even now
that you have a lover, Miss Jaqueline, I think you hardly understand
how a man loves and how willing he is to pick up the faintest shred of
hope and dream that it may blossom anew, or rather that the bud, having
been crushed by another's ruthlessness, has still in it strength enough
to unfold in fragrance when nursed carefully by the man who thinks
no other bloom could ever be so sweet. Perhaps I was a fool for this
second dream. I tried to shut it out, but it stole in unawares. She
hasn't been worth it all, nor any of it, I see that plainly now."
"Poor Marian!" The love moved the girl with infinite pity for the woman
who had lost it and was trying to feed on husks.
"No, don't pity her; she isn't worth it," and his tone was bitterly
resentful. "I could have overlooked the weakness that made her yield to
her tyrannical father; but now when she could be free, when she knows
there awaits her the sacred welcome of love, it is plain that she does
not care. Perhaps she is still counting on a fortune coming to her as
if by a miracle, for she has no great deal of her own."
"No, no; it is not that," protestingly.
"It looks mightily like it."
"Marian has a queer conscience. You don't know----" Did she really know
Marian herself?
"Well, we will dismiss her now. Perhaps she has a high order of
constancy that will keep her faithful to someone who is helpless and
cannot appreciate it. She may be a too superior person for me. That is
the end of it. I shall never mention her again. You have been very good
to find so many excuses for her, and to keep alive my regard. But I
cannot afford to lose your friendship. Carrington won't grudge me that,
I know."
Jaqueline smiled. She was rather proud that he asked her friendship.
There were belles who were eager to gain his attention. Jaqueline
resolved to keep the best of her friend to herself, and smiled a little
at the curiously obedient manner in which he returned to her when she
had sent him to dance with someone. She liked the pretty ordering about
of her admirers, the sense of power at once fascinating and dangerous.
"I shall try to get off for a few days and pay you a visit," Ralston
said. "Louis will be going back to college, and next year we shall have
him in Washington. And you will be up often this winter? Mrs. Jettson
seems deserted by both of her sisters. She is so fond of young people."
"Oh, yes; I shall be up a good deal."
"And the visit?" tentatively.
"We shall be delighted to see you. You will have an admiring audience
from father down."
"Thank you. You can never know what a comfort you have been to me. And
these few days have quite restored me to myself. Have I been a very
foolish, love-stricken swain?"
"Oh, I do not think you have been foolish at all! I was afraid you
would grow hard and cynical, and I don't like people who are classing
everybody in the same category and looking on the worst side."
She was very young, but she had a charm that touched his heart. Did
he half envy Roger Carrington? But, then, he would be madly jealous
of anyone who lavished her smiles in that fashion. One or two choice
friends might be admissible. He was safe, for he would never be so
easily caught again by any woman. Friendship was all he desired, and
in the years to come she would resemble Mrs. Jettson, no doubt, who
was very proud of her husband, and fond of him too. He liked women who
were proud of their husbands. For wifely devotion had not gone out of
fashion.
There was a gay and busy autumn for Jaqueline. Betty Fairfax had a
great wedding that befitted the old mansion where she had reigned
a queen for more years than usually fell to the lot of a handsome
Virginian girl. She had seen two younger sisters married and made much
merriment over it, and now she was going to be the wife of the newly
elected Governor of one of the more southern States. Consequently there
was a grand time all through the county, and there were six bridesmaids
to wait upon my lady, one of them being Jaqueline.
So there was a week to be spent with Betty, Miss Elizabeth Fairfax, as
she was called now.
"And what a shame your cousin's affairs should have come to naught!"
Betty declared. "To give up a fine young soldier, and then to have her
second lover come to grief. It is a case of the two stools, and one
coming to the floor. If I had not heard of your engagement, Jaqueline,
I should have asked him to stand with you. If I had known him better I
should have invited him, anyhow. There are several guests coming from
Washington."
"If I had only known you cared!" cried Jaqueline.
"You see, I want to make as brave a show as possible," and Betty
laughed. "I desire to let my liege-lord see that I have been accustomed
to the best, and a good deal of it, so he won't consider me an
ignoramus when he is inaugurated Governor later on."
"Then let us have Mr. Ralston!" Jaqueline's eyes were alight with
eagerness and amusement. "I will write to Mr. Carrington, and you shall
inclose an invitation. I'll send a few lines too, so that he can see it
is really meant."
"That's quite delightful of you. Maybe he will find some balm to mend
his broken heart among the pretty girls."
"He is not heartbroken now, although he took it very hard at first.
Grandpapa was bitterly opposed to it, you know. And Marian is in
mourning and goes nowhere, because grandmamma thinks she ought not to
be left alone."
"But Mr. Greaves will never recover. Doctor Leets said so."
"Oh, no! No one expects it, I think."
"Well, I suppose the devotion to a lost cause looks very pretty and
constant. Only she will not be a widow, more's the pity, for widows
soon pick up husbands. Now about the invitation."
It was so prettily worded that Lieutenant Ralston accepted it at the
first reading; and the two journeyed together to the grand festivity.
Old people and young attended, in fashions of various kinds, from
the Continental to more modern date. The Governor of Virginia honored
Betty's nuptials, and several of the Washington grandees. The _Gazette_
had a brilliant account of it, and it was the boast of the county for
many a year afterward.
The next morning the newly wedded pair started in a coach drawn by six
white horses, ornamented with wedding favors. And there was, as usual,
much merry-making afterwards, as there was still one daughter to lead
in the gayety.
"And when are you coming up to Georgetown?" Carrington asked of his
sweetheart.
"Oh, there is another wedding on the carpet! And then a birthday ball
at the Lees'. Then Patty is to have a birthday celebration. She thinks
thus far all the festivities have been for me, and this time the
invitations are to go out in her name."
"And then Christmas, I suppose," in a rather disappointed tone. "To get
my share of you I shall have to marry you, Jaqueline. Come, think about
that. When is it to be?"
"In a year. That will give me time to fulfill my engagements and get
ready."
"A year!" in dismay.
"You ought not grudge me that when you think of the years and years we
shall have to live together."
"Shall have to!" he re-echoed.
"That I believe is customary when one is married," she said with
teasing archness. "Unless one happens to have the Emperor of the French
for a brother."
"Wifehood is a woman's highest prerogative----"
"Not to be entered into hastily or unadvisedly," she interrupted with
a mischievous smile.
She was a pretty, fascinating torment! His mother had said: "One
wedding follows another among the bridesmaids. I hope you will come
home with your day set."
"I am going to learn to cook and to keep house this winter," she began
gravely. "And it takes a long time to make wedding clothes."
"Nonsense! There are cooks enough in the world. As for housekeeping,
that is a woman's birthright. And at first you know we need not keep
house. You will be in Washington with me, and then we can go over
home--for I shall hardly let you out of my sight. Yes, let it be soon
after Christmas."
"I can't be hurried in that fashion," she returned petulantly. "And I
should get tired of you if you were such a jailer as never to let me
out of your sight."
"You do not love me as I love you!"
"But you know I told you I was not quite sure I loved you enough. Love
grows with some people, and with some it comes in a moment of time.
Would you not rather have it grow year after year, and get richer and
truer----"
Her voice fell to an exquisite softness, and touched him deeply.
"There can be only one truth to love," he said solemnly. Then he took
her in his arms and pressed a kiss upon her forehead in a reverent
manner.
"I must go away and leave you here," he said presently. "I am always
leaving you to some scene of gayety."
"But you take the two most tempting young men, the lieutenant and Dr.
Collaston. Why, he will add quite a grace and interest to Washington.
And the goodly company will be scattered, leaving behind the old
people, who are always talking of their young days. I promised Betty
I would stay a whole week with her sister. There--I think they are
calling you."
"Carriage ready, sah. Jes' time to meet de stage," said the black
servant, who still wore his wedding favor proudly.
Were most girls reluctant to marry? Roger Carrington wondered. Miss
Fairfax had gone away joyfully.