Virgie's Wedding-Day
As Virgie passed out of her father's room, Sir William captured her.
"I am not going to keep you from your rest," he said, after caressing her
fondly, "but I wanted to tell you that I have been feeling a trifle
jealous regarding the appearance of the future Lady Heath upon her
wedding-day, and you will find everything that you will need for to-morrow
in a trunk, which I have had carried up into your room."
Virgie lifted her head from his breast, and regarded him questioningly.
"I sent an order by Dr. Waters," he explained, "to the best dressmaker
that he could find in Virginia City, to provide a simple yet appropriate
outfit for a bride, and you will find the best that could be obtained at
so short a notice, awaiting your approval up stairs."
"How kind, how thoughtful you are!" Virgie murmured gratefully, and with a
flush of pleasure. "Papa will be so pleased. He was just lamenting that I
was not properly provided for."
"Then it will be a gratifying surprise when he sees you to-morrow," Sir
William returned.
"Indeed it will. How can I think you? Perhaps I have been very remiss,
but, truly, I had not given a thought to my dress," Virgie confessed, with
some confusion.
"How could you, dear, with your heart so full of other things?" Sir
William replied, tenderly; "and I want no thanks other than to see you
looking like a bride," he concluded, smiling. "I did this chiefly to
gratify my own pride in my love."
He led her to the foot of the stairs, and then, with a lingering clasp,
let her go.
It was quite late, and Virgie thought that she would only allow herself a
peep into the mysterious trunk that night; but she resolved that she would
rise very early in the morning and lay out everything in readiness for the
wedding.
She wondered how Sir William could have managed it all, and was somewhat
anxious regarding the fit of her bridal dress; but she was set at rest
upon that point when she lifted the lid of the trunk and found a waist of
one of her own dresses lying upon the top of various packages, and she
knew that he had sent it as a measure and guide.
Everything else was wrapped in fine packing paper, and she concluded not
to open anything until morning, although her curiosity was greatly
excited.
She knelt and prayed long and fervently, for she felt very solemn in view
of the important event that was to occur on the morrow.
Then she retired, and was soon sleeping peacefully and restfully, as only
the pure and innocent can sleep.
But when the first rays of the sun streamed in at her window in the
morning, she arose, and, after putting her room in perfect order, she
opened the precious trunk and began to remove and undo the packages stored
therein.
First, there was a long, flat box.
Opening it, she found a misty and ample veil of finest tulle, simply
hemmed with a heavy thread of silk.
Then there was another smaller but deeper box, which contained a lovely
wreath of pure white heath, with bouquets of the same mingled with lilies
of the valley, for the corsage of her dress.
Still another, in which there was a pair of shining white satin boots,
silken hose, and kid gloves, with a dainty handkerchief, fine and sheer as
a cobweb.
Last, but not least, incased in several wrappings of soft white paper was
the wedding-dress.
Virgie's face paled and flushed many times while she was undoing this, for
many hopes were centered in it, and tears rose unbidden to her eyes when
at last it was laid out on the bed before her.
She had seen nothing one-half so lovely for years—not since she used to
watch her mother dress for gay receptions and parties in the happy days so
long ago.
It was of the finest India mull, very simply yet beautifully made, over an
underskirt of plain white silk—an airy, gauzy thing, just suited for a
youthful bride.
"How kind! how thoughtful!" the young girl breathed, as her glance ran
over the different articles comprising her toilet. "He has not forgotten a
single thing, and it is all so delicate and beautiful. This wreath of
heath—how suggestive! and nothing could be prettier.
"Oh papa! I am glad you will have your wish, for it may be the very last
one that can be gratified," she concluded, with a long sigh.
Had it not been for her father's condition, she would have been supremely
happy on that bright morning. Even as it was, her heart was overflowing
with love and gratitude toward her devoted lover for his kind
consideration and generosity.
She went below at her usual hour to attend to her regular duties, which
she performed in her customary quiet way, helping her father to rise and
dress, arranging the rooms in the nicest order, and then serving breakfast
to the invalid and their reverend guest.
Sir William was nowhere visible. He had spent the night with Mr. Abbot,
and when morning broke he went away to his own cabin, where he remained
until the hour for the ceremony.
The house was very quiet; there was no excitment, no bustle. Chi Lu alone
betrayed any consciousness that an unusual event was to take place, and
this only by a slight nervousness of manner and the restless flash of his
dusky eyes.
After breakfast Virgie saw that her father was made comfortable in his
reclining-chair in the parlor, and then giving him one last, lingering
kiss, she turned to go up to her chamber to dress for her bridal.
Just then there came a knock on the outer door. Chi Lu was called to
answer it, and he brought to Virgie a huge basket laden with the loveliest
of mountain ferns and flowers, the dew still glistening upon them.
They were the offering of some of the miners "for Miss Abbot's wedding,"
the boy who brought them said.
It had become known in some way that Mr. Abbot was failing rapidly, and
had requested that his daughter might be married before his death.
He was much respected in the hamlet, for he had always been the courteous
gentleman, while Virgie was regarded almost in the light of a young
princess, and thus these humble people were prompted to show their
sympathy and good will in this delicate manner.
The young bride-elect was touched to the heart by this tribute, and with
her own hands arranged the lovely flowers to furnish the room where she
was to be married.
Then she went up stairs, and was seen no more until the hour set for the
ceremony, which was eleven o'clock.
Meanwhile Chi Lu and an elderly woman, who had once been very kind to
Virgie when she was ill, and had been asked to "come and help for the
day," were very busily engaged in the small kitchen, arranging a repast
which was to be served later in the day.
Sir William was determined that the occasion should be made as cheerful as
circumstances would allow, and had ordered from the city every delicacy
which his fertile brain could suggest, and thus a "wedding breakfast,"
such as had never been known in that region before, was in process of
preparation.
At eleven o'clock the happy groom made his appearance and sent Margery
Follet, the woman before mentioned, to Virgie's door to say that he was
ready and awaiting her.
To her tap Virgie gently responded "come in," and a low cry of delight
escaped the humble woman's lips as she opened the door, and then stood
transfixed upon the threshold.
Virgie turned a smiling face to her. "Why, Margery, how came you here?"
she asked.
"The gent sent for me to come and help."
"That was thoughtful in him, and it was kind of you to come," Virgie
returned, graciously.
"It's a boon to me, miss. You look like an angel, and I shall never
forget this day," said the woman, regarding her almost with reverence.
Virgie felt all the happier for being able to contribute this pleasure to
one so unused to pleasure of any kind, and she increased it tenfold by
asking her to assist her in fastening the last button of one of her
gloves.
"Yes, I'm ready," Virgie replied, as, with a vivid, conscious flush, she
turned away, after one last look in her mirror, and truly she was a vision
to cheer the heart of the fondest bridegroom.
Her dress proved to be a perfect fit, and the delicate fabric fell in
soft, graceful folds over the lustrous white of her silken skirt, while
she was covered from head to foot by the mist-like veil.
The wreath of heath lay lightly upon her brown head, and, with the
beautiful bouquet upon her breast, made a pleasing contrast with the
otherwise spotless costume.
Her figure looked almost regal in her trailing robe, and she was simply
perfect from crown to sole.
"Yes," she repeated, as the woman seemed unable to take her eyes from her,
"you may tell Mr. Heath that I am ready," and as Margery went out, she
bowed her head in prayer for a blessing on her new life.
The next moment she heard Sir William's step on the stairs, and she went
out to meet him.
How his face lighted as he looked upon her! How his heart throbbed with
exultation as he thought:
"This peerless girl is mine! Heathdale has never known a mistress so
fair!"
He was clad, as became a gentleman, in a dress suit of simple black, fine
and rich, a single diamond of purest water gleaming just beneath his
white satin tie, and his hands were incased in spotless gloves.
"My darling," he whispered, as he took Virgie's right hand and laid it on
his arm, "how beautiful you are!"
She could not make him any reply—the moment was too solemn for words—but
she lifted her eyes to his for an instant, and they were filled with love
and trust.
Then they went below.
Very quietly they took their places in the little parlor, where the
clergyman awaited them, and where Mr. Abbot, after one surprised,
delighted glance at his daughter, lay back in his chair, with a smile of
supreme content upon his lips.
He understood at once who had so delicately and so fittingly arranged
everything for the fair bride, and it was such a comfort to him to have
Virgie properly arrayed for her marriage.
Chi Lu and Margery stood one on either side of the door, just inside the
room, according to Sir William's desire, for there must be witnesses, and
thus the group was complete.
Rev. Dr. Thornton approached the young couple, and in an easy and
impressive, yet graceful manner, performed the marriage service, and those
few moments were very solemn ones to three at least of those present. But
the ceremony was soon over, and the maiden was now a wife—Virgie Abbot
had become Virginia, Lady Heath.
Sir William had not, however, allowed his title to be used, as he shrank
from the notoriety which the knowledge of his position and wealth would
create among the settlers of that region. He had come there in an
unpretentious way, and he wished to leave as quietly. There would be time
enough, he thought, to resume his honors when he and his bride should go
out into the world.
When the benediction had been pronounced over the clasped hands of the
husband and wife, Dr. Thornton offered his congratulations, and then Sir
William led Virgie directly to her father.
She sank upon her knees beside his chair, and putting her arms around his
neck, gave and received a tender caress.
"God bless you always, my daughter!" the sick man murmured, in trembling
tones. "I believe I am guilty of no irreverence in invoking His blessing,"
he added, "for I have learned to feel my need of faith in Him, and,
Virgie, your husband has taught me how to seek it."
The young bride could only press her lips again to his in reply. She was
very grateful for this confession, for her father's previous skepticism
and bitterness had often caused her much sorrow.
Chi Lu and Margery came forward to congratulate the bride and groom, and
then went about their duties in the other room.
Soon after, Dr. Thornton slipped quietly away, thus leaving the invalid
and his children by themselves.
"Virgie, how beautiful you are to-day! How did it happen?" Mr. Abbot
asked, when he found they were alone, and glancing admiringly over her
costume.
"It was all Mr.—all Will's doing," she answered, with a charming blush,
and glancing shyly up into her husband's face.
"I suspected as much, and I thank you, Sir William, more than I can
express, for giving me this unexpected pleasure," said the sick man,
gratefully.
"It was to gratify myself as well. I could not be satisfied unless Lady
Heath was arrayed as became a bride of the house," the young baronet
returned, with a fond smile, as he noticed how the color came and went on
Virgie's cheek at the sound of her new name. "But," he added, putting his
arm around her, and raising her to her feet, while with one sweep of his
hand he threw back the veil, "I have not yet had the privilege of saluting
my wife. Virgie, I have the right to the first kiss from your sweet lips."
The beautiful bride lifted her face to him, flushed with a new, almost
holy, happiness.
"My husband!" she whispered, as he held her close for a moment, and he
felt that henceforth his life would be complete, since she loved him, and
was his.
Alas, for the weary years that were to follow!
Was there no one to warn?
For a little while they fell into a quiet chat, and then Chi Lu came to
bid them to the other room, where a really elegant feast awaited them, and
where Sir William exerted himself to make the occasion as merry as
possible, and all through the day nothing occurred to mar its peace and
joy.
The next morning Dr. Thornton returned to Virginia City, carrying in his
pocket a much larger fee than he was accustomed to receive; and after
that, life at the mountain cottage resumed its usual quiet routine.