Captain Raymond and his eldest daughter were out in the Woodburn grounds
the next morning at their usual early hour, wandering here and there
along the shaded paths and among the shrubs and flowers, noting their
growth in size and beauty, gathering blossoms, and chatting together in
their usual familiar and affectionate manner; Lucilla expressing her
thoughts and feelings as freely and openly as though her companion had
been one of her own age and sex.
"I am glad for Rosie," she said when the talk turned upon the subject of
what was expected to be the great event of the day, "she seems so happy;
though how she can be in the prospect of leaving the dear home of her
childhood and the mother who loves her so fondly, I cannot understand.
Oh, father! I do think I can never, never bear to go away from you! It
seems impossible that anyone else can ever be half so dear to me, and I
am so glad that you want to keep me your own little girl for years
longer."
"For all our life on earth, daughter, if you are satisfied to have it
so," he returned, bestowing upon her a look and smile of tenderest
fatherly affection. "You are still one of my chief treasures, which I
should be very loath to bestow upon anyone else; dearer to me--as all my
children are--than tongue can tell."
"Yes, papa," she said, looking up into his eyes with a joyous smile, "so
you have told me many, many times; but I love to hear it just as if you
had never said it before."
"As I do your expressions of ardent love for me, daughter," he returned.
"Very glad I am that I am not the one who must to-day resign to another
the ownership of a daughter."
"I am sorry for Grandma Elsie," said Lucilla; "but then I suppose she
must feel rather used to it--having given away two daughters before."
"And having none left to be a care and trouble, eh?" laughed her father.
"No, sir; having both near enough to be seen and enjoyed every day if
she chooses. Don't you hope that will be the way with you if you have to
give any of yours up to somebody else?"
"I certainly do," he said. "I should be very loath to consent to having
any one of them carried off to a distance. But let us not trouble
ourselves with anxious thought of what may lie in the future. Remember
the dear Master's word, 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.'"
"Yes, papa; and I remember your teaching me that his 'Take no thought,'
means no anxiety, and that it tends greatly to one's happiness to live
one day at a time, just leaving all the future in his hands."
"Yes, daughter; just as a little child leaves its future and the supply
of its daily wants in the care of its parents."
"Such kind teaching, and easy to understand when one has such a father
as mine," she said, with a look of grateful love.
"I am thankful, indeed, daughter, if anything in my treatment and
teaching helps you to a clearer understanding of how the Master would
have you to act and feel," he said in tones that spoke full appreciation
of her filial affection.
"Ah! there is our mail," he added, as a servant was seen carrying it
toward the house; "so we will go in now and see if it contains anything
important for you or me."
"And if there is anything you want answered on the typewriter you will
let me do it at once, won't you, papa?" she asked, as they quickened
their footsteps, taking the direction toward the house.
"If you have time, and wish to do so, daughter."
"Yes, sir; I have hardly anything to do till it is time for the drive to
Ion."
"Unless you should find a letter, or more than one, of your own, calling
for a reply," he returned, smiling down into her bright, animated face.
"That is not very likely, considering how few correspondents I have,"
she laughed.
They reached the veranda from one direction as the servant entered it
from another, and the captain, taking the mail bag from him, walked on
into the library, Lucilla following. He emptied the contents of the bag
upon the table, and going rapidly over them, said: "Several letters for
our guests" (laying them aside as he spoke), "one for your mamma; none
for any of my children, and only two business letters for me. Well,
daughter," glancing at the clock on the mantel, "you may sit down to
your typewriter and answer these at my dictation; as I see there will be
time to do so before the ringing of the breakfast bell. Ah, good-morning,
Keith!" as at that moment that gentleman entered the room. "Here are
letters which I was just about to send up to you."
"Thank you," said Keith, taking them from his host's outstretched hand.
"I am glad to have saved you the trouble. I hope you and Miss Lucilla
are both quite well?" giving her a bow and smile as he spoke.
"Entirely, thank you, and have just come in from our usual early stroll
together about the grounds. I hope you rested well. Take that easy-chair
and don't let our presence interfere with your enjoyment of your
letters."
Keith declined that invitation, saying he felt a strong inclination for
a breath of the sweet morning air before the summons to the breakfast
table should come; so would read his letters upon the veranda, and, with
them in his hand, passed out of the room.
"I strongly suspect that was from a polite disinclination to hinder us
in our work, papa," remarked Lucilla in a sprightly tone, as her father
uncovered the machine and made all things ready for her work.
"Quite likely," he responded, "for I never met anyone more truly polite
and thoughtful for others. He is a Christian man and acts from Christian
principles in all that he does."
"As his friend, my father, does," she said with a look of filial
reverence up into his face as he stood by her side.
"And as I trust my daughter does and will ever do," he returned with
grave earnestness, then began his dictation.
They made rapid work and had finished and joined Keith upon the veranda
before the ringing of the breakfast bell summoned all to their morning
meal.
"Rosie has an ideal wedding day, I think," remarked Violet as she poured
the coffee; "that shower in the night having laid the dust in the roads
and made the air deliciously cool."
"Also refreshed vegetation," added her husband, "so that trees and
shrubs and flowers are as fresh and fragrant as possible."
"The sun shines brightly, too," added Grace, "reminding one of the old
saying I have so often heard quoted: 'Happy is the bride on whom the sun
shines.'"
"It is pleasant to see it shining, yet I do not believe Rosie would
hesitate a moment, or feel the least anxiety about its effect upon her
future happiness, if the rain were pouring down," said Lucilla; "because
she has great confidence in her bridegroom that is to be, and not a
particle of superstition in her nature."
"That is giving her high praise," said Keith, "for there are few who are
entirely free from it, though very many are hardly aware of its hold
upon them."
"You are quite correct, I think, sir," remarked Dr. Percival; "we are
all apt to be blind to our own feelings, and hardly conscious that our
prejudices and superstitions are such, blind to our weakness--even more
to the mental than to the physical."
"Then how well it is that there is no occasion for their exercise, or
for battling with them to-day," observed Violet in a sprightly tone;
"and though, of course, mamma and all of us must, when Rosie is gone,
miss our constant sweet companionship with her, we ought not to mourn,
but rather rejoice that she is going into a Christian family and gaining
a devoted Christian for a life companion."
"Yes; that is indeed a cause for joy and gratitude," said Keith.
"Father, will Mr. Croly be any relation to us after he gets married to
Aunt Rosie?" queried Ned.
"Yes, my son; brother to your mamma and me, and uncle to the rest of
you."
"Meaning Neddie himself and Elsie, papa?" Grace said half
interrogatively and with an amused little laugh.
"Ah, yes! he is certainly too young to be, or wish to be, that to my
older daughters," returned her father with a look of amusement.
"No danger that he will want to claim that relationship, Gracie,"
laughed Lucilla. "Even Walter does not, though I know you are a
particular favourite with him; but he, to be sure, is still younger than
Mr. Croly by some years."
"It is at two o'clock Aunt Rosie is to be married, then there will be
the wedding feast, and after that the bride and groom will go on a
journey," said Neddie, as if bestowing a piece of valuable information
upon his hearers.
"Yes," said Elsie, "but, as everybody knows it, what's the use of
telling it?"
"I thought perhaps Cousin Donald and Cousin Dick didn't know it--at
least, not all of it," said Ned.
Then his father told him he had talked quite enough, and must be quiet
during the rest of the meal.
"We who are to be the bride's attendants should go over early, I think,"
remarked Lucilla. "At least we, the older ones," she added with a
smiling glance at Elsie; "the little flower girls will not be needed
until somewhat later."
"You may set your own time," her father said. "I will send you and Grace
over in the family carriage, and it can return in full season for the
use of anyone else who desires it. We have a variety of horses and
conveyances, gentlemen, any or all of them at your service at whatever
hour you may appoint," he added, turning to his guests. "There will be
abundance of time for a ride or drive for mere exercise or enjoyment,
before donning your attire for the grand occasion, if you wish to take
it."
Both gentlemen accepted the offer with thanks, and they proceeded to lay
their plans for a gallop together over some of the roads with which Dick
had been familiar in his childhood, but which would be new to Captain
Keith. They set out within an hour after leaving the breakfast table,
and not very long afterward the young girls were on their way to Ion.
They found the house beautifully decorated with flowers from garden and
conservatories, especially the room in which the ceremony was to take
place.
Everybody seemed in a state of subdued excitement, Rosie half gay, half
sad, her eyes filling whenever she turned them upon her mother--the dear
mother who had so loved and cherished her all the days of her life with
such unselfish devotion as no other earthly creature could know; how
could she endure the thought of the impending separation? She could not;
she could only strive to forget it, and keep her mind filled with the
important step now just about to be taken, for she had already gone too
far to retreat even were she sure that she wished to do so. The mother
was scarcely less affected, but with her greater experience of life was
better able to control and conceal her feelings. And so were the others
who, though pleased with the match, still felt that this was the
breaking up of some very tender ties; they would not allow their
thoughts to dwell upon that, but would occupy them with the mirth and
gaiety of the present.
But to Mrs. Croly, who had so far recovered under Dr. Conly's skilful
treatment that she was able to be present, it was all joy: she had
always wanted a daughter, and now was gaining one after her own heart;
for Rosie seemed to her all that was good, beautiful, and in every way
attractive. And then, in respect to family, fortune, everything that
could be thought of, she was all that could be desired. The elder Mr.
Croly, too, was entirely satisfied with the match, and already felt a
paternal interest in the young girl just entering his family. In fact
upon both sides there was perfect satisfaction with the match.
Everything went well; there was no bustle or confusion; minister and
guests were all there in due season; bride, groom, and attendants,
including the little flower girls, performed their parts without mistake
or discomposure. Kisses, congratulations, and good wishes followed; then
the wedding feast was partaken of leisurely and with mirth and jollity,
the bridal dress was exchanged for a beautiful travelling suit, the
farewells were spoken, with cheery reminders that the separation was to
be but temporary, the bride expecting soon to rejoin the dear home
circle. That thought was a very comforting one to her, and, though tears
had fallen at the parting from her loved ones,--especially her
mother,--they soon ceased their flow under the tenderly affectionate
caresses and endearments of him who was henceforward to be to her the
nearest and dearest of all earthly loved ones, and her face grew radiant
with happiness as he had hoped to see it on their bridal day.