THE FIRST CLOUD.
Mrs. Harrington had run up stairs for an instant, and stopped Mellen and
his bride on the landing for a few last words.
"I hope you are satisfied, Grantley," she said; "I have done my best; I
do hope you are pleased."
"My dear friend, everything has been perfect," he answered.
"I can't thank you for all your kindness to me," Elizabeth said, holding
out her hand; "but believe me, I feel it deeply."
"My dear, don't speak of it! Grantley and Elsie are like relatives to
me," cried Mrs. Harrington, "and I love you so much already! You looked
lovely--what a mercy we came off so well from our fright--"
"There is no time for pretty speeches," broke in Elsie, giving her a
warning glance, and pulling Elizabeth towards their dressing-room; "go
back to your guests, Mary Harrington; what will they do without you.
Besides, you must cover our retreat. We don't want to be stared at when
we go out."
But Mellen stood still after they had entered the chamber, and detained
Mrs. Harrington.
"What fright?" he demanded; "what did you mean?"
She was too thoroughly confused to remember her promise.
"Oh, nothing, nothing!" she said; "I have sold the horses, so it doesn't
make any difference."
"What do you mean?" he asked. "Have you had an accident?"
"No, no; the gentleman saved us--such a splendid creature! But it was so
odd. The moment Elizabeth looked in his face she fainted dead
away--courageous as a lion till then--just like a novel, you know. But
she said she never saw him before; it was really quite interesting."
Grantley Mellen turned suddenly pale; doubt and suspicion had been his
familiar demons for years, and it never required more than a word or
look to call them up.
He controlled himself sufficiently to speak with calmness, and Mrs.
Harrington was not observant; but he did not permit her to return to her
guests until he had heard the whole story.
"Don't mention it," she entreated; "I promised Elizabeth not to tell;
she thought you would be frightened, and perhaps displeased."
Mrs. Harrington hurried down stairs, and Mellen passed on to the chamber
which had been appropriated for his use. But his face had not recovered
its serenity, and Master Dolf, who presided over his toilet, did not at
all approve of such gravity on a man's wedding-day--having drank quite
champagne enough in the kitchen to feel in as exuberant spirits as was
desirable, himself.
The leave-takings were over; Tom Fuller had given his last tempestuous
sigh as Mellen drove off with his sister and his bride towards the home
where they were to begin their new life.
The journey was not a tedious one; the swift train bore them for a
couple of hours along one of the Long Island railroads, to a way
station, where a carriage waited to carry them to the quiet old house in
which they were to spend the honeymoon.
There was to be no journey, both Mellen and Elizabeth wished to go
quietly to the beautiful spot which was to be their future home, and
spend the first weeks of their happiness in complete seclusion.
The drive was a charming one, and the brightness of the Spring day would
have chased even a deeper gloom from Mellen's mind than the shadow which
Mrs. Harrington's careless words had brought over it.
From the eminence along which the road wound, they caught occasional
glimpses of the silvery beach and the long sparkling line of ocean
beyond; then a sudden descent would shut them out, and they drove
through beautiful groves with pleasant homesteads peeping through the
trees, and distant villages nestled like flocks of birds in the golden
distance.
The apple-trees were in blossom, and the breeze was laden with their
delicious fragrance; the grass in the pastures wore its freshest green,
the young grain was sprouting in the fields, troops of robins and
thrushes darted about, filling the air with melody, and over all the
blue sky looked down, flecked with its white, fleecy clouds. The
sunlight played warm and beautiful over this lovely scene, and through
the early loveliness of the season, the married pair drove on towards
their new life.
At a sudden curve in the road, they came out full upon the ocean, and
Elizabeth, unacquainted with the scene, uttered an exclamation of wonder
at its dazzling loveliness.
Below them stretched a crescent-shaped bay, with a line of woodland
running far out into the sea; away to the right, at the extremity of the
bay, a little village peeped out; its picturesque dwellings were dotted
here and there, giving a home look to the whole scene. At the end of the
shady avenue into which they had turned, the tall roofs and stately
towers of the Piney Cove mansion were visible through the trees.
"The dear old house!" cried Elsie, clapping her hands. "The dear old
house!"
Grantley Mellen was watching his wife, and a pleased smile lighted his
face when he saw how thoroughly she appreciated the beauty of the place.
He did not speak, but clasped her hand gently in his, and held it, while
Elsie uttered her wild exclamations of delight. They drove up to the
entrance of the house.
"Welcome home!" exclaimed Mellen, and his face glowed with tenderness as
he lifted his wife from the carriage and conducted her up the steps,
Elsie following, and the servants pressing forward with their
congratulations, headed by Clorinda: and for the first few moments,
Elizabeth was conscious of nothing but a pleasant confusion.
From the hall where they stood, she could look out upon the ocean which
rolled and sparkled under the sunshine. She could even hear the waves
lapsing up to the grounds which sloped down to the water's edge in a
closely shaven lawn, broken by stately old trees and blossoming
flower-beds. The view so charmed her with its loveliness, that at first
she hardly heeded the magnificence of the different apartments through
which they led her.
There were quaint, shadowy old rooms, full of odd nooks and corners, and
heavy with antique furniture, where one could idle away a morning so
pleasantly; and in the modern portion of the dwelling, a long suite of
drawing-rooms, with a library beyond, which had been fitted up with
every luxury that wealth and refined taste could devise.
"Be happy," Grantley Mellen whispered, when his wife tried to find words
to express her delight. "Be happy--peace, rest and affection is all I
ask."
He looked in her face, eager for the smiling surprise which he had
expected to find there. It was sadly grave. She too had her after
thought.