_THE BRIDE’S FATE_
The Sequel to “The Changed Brides”
_By_
MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH
AUTHOR OF
“A Leap in the Dark,” “The Lost Lady of Lone,” “Nearest and Dearest,”
“Her Mother’s Secret,” “A Beautiful Fiend,” “Victor’s Triumph,” Etc.
[Illustration]
_I have set my life upon a cast,
And I will abide the hazard of the die._
—SHAKESPEARE.
A. L. BURT COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
POPULAR BOOKS
By MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH
In Handsome Cloth Binding
Price per volume, 60 Cents
Beautiful Fiend, A
Brandon Coyle’s Wife
Sequel to A Skeleton in the Closet
Bride’s Fate, The
Sequel to The Changed Brides
Bride’s Ordeal, The
Capitola’s Peril
Sequel to the Hidden Hand
Changed Brides, The
Cruel as the Grave
David Lindsay
Sequel to Gloria
Deed Without a Name, A
Dorothy Harcourt’s Secret
Sequel to A Deed Without a Name
“Em”
Em’s Husband
Sequel to “Em”
Fair Play
For Whose Sake
Sequel to Why Did He Wed Her?
For Woman’s Love
Fulfilling Her Destiny
Sequel to When Love Commands
Gloria
Her Love or Her Life
Sequel to The Bride’s Ordeal
Her Mother’s Secret
Hidden Hand, The
How He Won Her
Sequel to Fair Play
Ishmael
Leap in the Dark, A
Lilith
Sequel to the Unloved Wife
Little Nea’s Engagement
Sequel to Nearest and Dearest
Lost Heir, The
Lost Lady of Lone, The
Love’s Bitterest Cup
Sequel to Her Mother’s Secret
Mysterious Marriage, The
Sequel to A Leap in the Dark
Nearest and Dearest
Noble Lord, A
Sequel to The Lost Heir
Self-Raised
Sequel to Ishmael
Skeleton in the Closet, A
Struggle of a Soul, The
Sequel to The Lost Lady of Lone
Sweet Love’s Atonement
Test of Love, The
Sequel to A Tortured Heart
To His Fate
Sequel to Dorothy Harcourt’s Secret
Tortured Heart, A
Sequel to The Trail of the Serpent
Trail of the Serpent, The
Tried for Her Life
Sequel to Cruel as the Grave
Unloved Wife, The
Unrequited Love, An
Sequel to For Woman’s Love
Victor’s Triumph
Sequel to A Beautiful Fiend
When Love Commands
When Shadows Die
Sequel to Love’s Bitterest Cup
Why Did He Wed Her?
Zenobia’s Suitors
Sequel to Sweet Love’s Atonement
For Sale by all Booksellers or will be sent postpaid on receipt of
price,
A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS
52 Duane Street New York
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I.— Unchanging Love 5
II.— Calm Delights 11
III.— Surprises 17
IV.— A Messenger 25
V.— Fortune 34
VI.— Entertaining Angels 40
VII.— Halcyon Days 51
VIII.— The End of Probation 59
IX.— A May-day Marriage 66
X.— General Lyon’s Consolation 79
XI.— A Joyous Meeting in June 88
XII.— The Mail-Bag 97
XIII.— Old and New 102
XIV.— Arrival 112
XV.— The Derby 133
XVI.— The Gipsies 147
XVII.— How the Parted Met 159
XVIII.— Waiting and Hoping 173
XIX.— Meeting Every Day 184
XX.— The Ambassadress’ Ball 191
XXI.— Alexander’s Experience 207
XXII.— The Missing Boy 227
XXIII.— Alexander’s Jealousy 248
XXIV.— The Duel 256
XXV.— The Grand Satisfaction 268
XXVI.— The Pursuit 273
XXVII.— The Shock 288
XXVIII.— Alexander Strikes a Light 307
XXIX.— Alexander’s Discoveries 315
XXX.— Little Lenny’s Enemy 324
XXXI.— The Abduction 339
XXXII.— Little Lenny’s Adventures 354
XXXIII.— Lenny’s Experiences 369
XXXIV.— The Peace-offering 374
XXXV.— The Peace-offering.—_Continued_ 386
THE BRIDE’S FATE.
CHAPTER I.
UNCHANGING LOVE.
“Kind friends may be to thee,
But love like hers thou’lt see,
Never again.”
Rest, peace, love, comfort were now Drusilla’s portions.
It was a new experience to the poor, discarded, and deposed young wife
to find herself the central object of interest in a family like General
Lyon’s, her health and happiness watched over and provided for with the
most affectionate solicitude.
She had not a care in the world. She scarcely had a regret. She knew the
worst. She knew that her last act had banished Alexander from her side.
But when she looked upon her boy’s face, and reflected that no stigma
now rested upon his baby brow, she could not regret her act. With the
childlike simplicity of her character, she “accepted the situation.”
In the sunshine of this sweet old home, her heart expanded to all kindly
sympathies.
She—the orphan girl, who had never been blessed by a father’s tender
care, deeply responded to the affection bestowed on her by old General
Lyon, and really doted on the fine veteran. At his desire she called him
uncle; but she loved him as a father. She would watch and listen for his
footsteps, in his daily visit to her sick room; and she would kiss and
fondle his aged hands and then lift up her boy to receive his blessing.
And often on these occasions the veteran’s eyes filled with tears, as he
glanced from the childish mother to the child, and murmured:
“Poor children! poor children! while I live you shall be my children.”
Anna was not less kind than her grandfather to Drusilla.
And she, the only daughter, who had never before known a sister’s
companionship, loved Miss Lyon with a sister’s love, and delighted in
her cheerful society.
She felt friendly towards Dick, and was very fond of the attentive old
servants. Indeed, her loving, sunny spirit went out on all around her.
But her greatest joy was in her child. She would soothe him to sleep
with the softest, sweetest notes, and after laying him in his cradle,
she would kneel and gaze on his sleeping face for hours.
Mammy protested against this idolatry; but Drusilla answered her:
“It is not idolatry, nurse; because I do not place the gift before the
Giver. There is not an instant in my life that I am not conscious of
fervent gratitude to the Lord for giving me this child, a gift forever
and ever; a gift for time and eternity; oh, nurse, a gift, of which
nothing on earth or in Heaven can deprive me!”
“Don’t say that, ma’am; the Lord might take the child,” said mammy,
solemnly.
“I know that, nurse. The Lord might take him to Heaven, to save him from
the evil in this world; but he would be safe there, for the Lord would
take care of him for me, and give him back to me when I myself should
reach the Blessed Land,” she answered, reverently.
And mammy had nothing more to say.
How closely the young mother watched the tiny growth of her child, and
the faint development of his intelligence. She could see progress where
no one else could perceive the slightest sign of it. She discovered that
“he” “took notice,” long before any one could be brought to acknowledge
that such a prodigy was possible. Her delight when her boy first smiled
in his sleep, or when she fancied he did, was something almost
ludicrous. She was kneeling by his cradle, watching his slumbers as
usual, when she suddenly cried out, though in a hushed voice:
“Oh, Anna! Cousin Anna! look! look! he is laughing, he is indeed! _See_
how he is laughing!”
Miss Lyon came and bent over the cradle. So did mammy, who drew back
again, saying:
“Lor! why that ain’t no laugh, ma’am; that’s wind—leastways, it is a
grimace caused by wind on the stomach, and I must give him some catnip
when he wakes.”
Now, if Drusilla’s sweet face had been capable of expressing withering
contempt mammy would have been shrivelled up to a mummy: but as it was
she could only appeal from the nurse to Miss Lyon.
“Anna, look at him—he _is_ laughing, or, at the very least, smiling—is
he not?”
“Yes, my darling, he is certainly smiling; and you know the old folks
say when an infant smiles in its sleep it dreams of Heaven and sees
angels.”
“And I do believe that is true—it must be true! And my little cherub
sees his guardian angels!” exclaimed Drusilla, delightedly.
“I tell you, ma’am,” began mammy, “it is nothing but jest win—Owtch!”
she exclaimed, suddenly breaking off as Anna trod heavily upon her
corns.
And presently mammy limped off to make the threatened catnip tea,
leaving the two young women to the enjoyment of their faith in the
sleeping baby’s Heavenly visions.
For the first weeks infants’ eyes are of no particular form, color or
expression, but merely little liquid orbs folded up in fat. But very
soon Drusilla made very great discoveries in her infant’s eyes. Sitting
alone one morning, and gazing down upon the babe that lay smiling on her
lap, she murmured:
“Oh, Alick, Alick, dear, you have torn yourself away from me, and have
gone. But you could not deprive me of your _eyes_, my Alick! They look
up at me from my baby’s face, and while they do so I can never cease to
love you and pray for you, Alick, my Alick!”
Since his desertion this was the only occasion upon which she had ever
breathed his name, and even now it was only in half audible murmurs as
she talked to herself, or to her babe.
By the other members of the family, Alexander’s name was never
mentioned. General Lyon had given no orders to this effect, but the
subject was tacitly dropped by all as one unspeakably painful and
humiliating.
General Lyon, who loved the delicate, dove-eyed little woman with a
fatherly fondness, would not let her confine herself to her own
apartments a day longer than was necessary. He first of all wiled her
down to the afternoon tea, and then after a few days coaxed her down to
dinner; and on the Sunday following sent for her to join the family
circle at breakfast.
The “family circle” at this time comprised only General Lyon, Anna,
Dick, and Drusilla.
Dick had remained at Old Lyon Hall ever since Alexander’s exodus, with
the exception of one day when he rode over to Hammondville, where he had
left the parson and the lawyer to tell them that their services would
not be required, and to remunerate and dismiss them.
Since that day Dick had made a clean breast of it to his uncle and had
won a conditional consent to his marriage with Anna; the engagement
being encumbered with a probation of one year.
“I shall be an old maid yet if I live long enough,” said Anna, laughing
when she heard from Dick of this decision. “My marriage day has been
fixed and my marriage interrupted three times! and at every interruption
it has been deferred for one year, only to be interrupted again at the
end of it.”
“I don’t complain of all other interruptions, but Anna, let us make sure
of a marriage this time by going off by ourselves and getting it done,”
said Anna’s lover.
“For shame, Dick,” was all the answer she vouchsafed him.
“We are of age,” urged her suitor.
“So much the worse, sir, for we should know better,” said Anna.
And Dick ceased to push the question.
It drew near the Christmas holidays, and the weather was very fine for
the season.
General Lyon invited and pressed his adopted niece to take drives in the
picturesque vicinity of the hall.
But Drusilla answered that she wished her first going out should be to
the house of God, in acknowledgment of His great mercy in preserving her
and her child amid so many dangers, and raising up to them such dear
friends.
And the conscientious old soldier could urge the matter no farther.
One Friday morning Anna and Drusilla were seated together as usual—the
baby sleeping in the cradle between them—when Anna said:
“Drusilla, my dear, you are going to church next Sunday?”
“Yes, I am; Providence permitting, Anna.”
“Do you know it will be Christening Sunday?”
“No, I didn’t, Anna.”
“Well, it will be. Now wouldn’t you like to have your boy christened?”
“Oh, yes; indeed I should, bless him!”
“And I will be his godmother, and grandpa and Dick shall be his
godfathers. You know, being a boy, he will require two godfathers and
one godmother. If he were a girl, the matter would be reversed. Now what
do you say, my dear?”
“I thank you very much, dear Anna, for your kindness in thinking of all
this. And I shall be very grateful to you and dear uncle and cousin Dick
for becoming sponsors for my darling boy,” said Drusilla, earnestly.
“And the christening is to go on?”
“Certainly, dear Anna, if you please.”
“What name will you give your child?”
“If dear uncle consents I should like to name my boy for him—‘Leonard.’”
“And not Alick?” inquired Anna.
It was the first time for weeks past that she had uttered his name; and
she did it now in a sort of triumph in the thought that his discarded
wife had ceased to care for him.
“And not Alick?” she repeated, seeing that Drusilla hesitated to answer.
“No, not Alick,” the young mother now replied, calmly and gravely.
“That is right; I am glad of it! Very glad of it!” exclaimed Anna, with
such righteous indignation and exultation combined that the young wife
looked at her in surprise and sorrow.
“I think you mistake me, dear cousin,” she said. “The only reason why I
do not call my child after his father is this:—I have already _one_
Alick, _but_ one Alick and I can never have another. I cannot even bear
that my child should have his name. I want but one Alick in the whole
world.
“Goodness knows, I think one of that sort would be quite enough!”
exclaimed Anna.
Drusilla looked at her in gentle reproach.
“Is it _possible_, child, that you still love that scamp?” scornfully
demanded Miss Lyon.
“Oh, Anna dear, yes! He _used_ to love me too; he was very kind to me,
from the days when I was a poor little sickly, ignorant girl, till
within a short time ago. Oh, Anna, shall the madness of a few months
make me forget all the loving kindness of many long years? Never, Alick,
dear, never,” she murmured, dropping her voice as in soliloquy; “I will
still love you and pray for you and trust in you—for I know, Alick,
dear—_when you come to yourself you will come to me_. I can wait for
that time.”
Anna gazed on the inspired young face in amazement that gradually gave
way to reverence, and even to awe.
“Drusilla,” she said, solemnly, “I retract all I ever said against
Alexander, and I promise never to open my lips to his prejudice again.”
Drusilla looked up gratefully but—inquiringly.
“Your eyes thank me, but you wish to know why I say this. I will tell
you: It is because you make me begin to believe in that man. Your faith
in him affects me. There _must_ be some great reserve of good somewhere
latent and undeveloped in his nature, to have drawn forth such a faith
as yours. But were he the greatest sinner that ever darkened the earth,
such love as yours would make him sacred.”