When Hyacinth woke next morning, it was with difficulty that she
disentangled dreams and truth; then the whole of her untold joys rushed
over her, and she knew it was no fancy--no dream. She went down to
breakfast looking, if possible, more beautiful than she had ever
looked; the love-light on her face made it radiant; her eyes were bright
as stars. Lady Vaughan gazed at her, as she had often done before, in
sheer wonder. During breakfast she heard Sir Arthur complaining of his
papers.
"I am told they will not come until night," he said. "I really do not
see how I am to get through the day without my papers."
"What is the cause of the delay?" asked Lady Vaughan.
"Some accident to the mail train. The company ought to be more careful."
"Adrian will perhaps be able to do something to amuse you," said Lady
Vaughan.
"Adrian has gone out," returned Sir Arthur, in an injured tone of voice.
"Some friends of his came to the hotel late last night, and he has gone
out with them; he will not return till evening."
"Who told you so?" asked Lady Vaughan.
"He wrote this note," said Sir Arthur, "and sent it to me the first
thing this morning." Then Hyacinth smiled to herself, for she knew the
note was written for her.
"We must get through the day as well as we can," said Lady Vaughan.
Greatly to Sir Arthur's surprise, Hyacinth volunteered to spend the
morning with him.
"I can amuse you," she said--"not perhaps as well as Mr. Darcy, but I
will do my best. We will go out into the grounds if you like; the band
is going to play a selection from 'Il Flauto Magico.'"
And Sir Arthur consented, inwardly wondering how sweet, gentle, and
compliant his granddaughter was.
Just before dinner a messenger came to the _salon_ to say that Mr. Darcy
had returned, and, with Lady Vaughan's permission would spend the
evening with them.
"He will tell Lady Vaughan this evening," thought Hyacinth; "and then
every one will know."
She dressed herself with unusual care; it would be the first time of
seeing him since she had promised to be his wife. Amongst her treasures
was a dress of white lace, simple and elegant, somewhat elaborately
trimmed with green leaves. Pincott came again, by Lady Vaughan's wish,
to superintend the young lady's toilet. She looked curiously at the
white lace dress.
"Begging your pardon, Miss Vaughan," she said, "but I never saw a young
lady so changed. I used to feel quite grieved when you were so careless
about your dress."
"I will try not to grieve you again," said the young girl, laughingly.
"You must not wear either jewels or ribbons with this dress," observed
Pincott. "There must be nothing but a simple cluster of green leaves."
"It shall be just as you like," observed Miss Vaughan.
But the maid's taste was correct--nothing more simply elegant or
effective could have been devised than the dress of white lace and the
cluster of green leaves on the fair hair. Hyacinth hardly remembered how
the time passed until he came. She heard his footsteps--heard his voice;
and her heart beat, her face flushed, her whole soul seemed to go out to
meet him.
"Hyacinth," he cried, clasping her hand, "this day seemed to me as long
as a century."
Lady Vaughan was sitting alone in her favorite arm-chair near the open
window. Adrian went up to her, leading Hyacinth by the hand.
"Dearest Lady Vaughan," he said, "can you guess what I have to tell
you?"
The fair old face beamed with smiles.
"Is it what I have expected, Adrian?" she asked. "Does my little
Hyacinth love you?"
The girl hid her blushing face; then she sunk slowly on her knees, and
the kind old hands were raised to bless her. They trembled on her bowed
head; Hyacinth seized them and covered them with passionate kisses and
tears. She had thought them stern hands once, and had felt disposed to
fly from their guidance; but now, as she kissed them, she blessed and
thanked them that their guidance had brought her to this happy haven of
rest.
"Heaven bless you, my child!" said the feeble voice. The lady bowed her
stately head and fair old face over the young girl.
"If you have ever thought me stern, Hyacinth," she said--"if you have
ever fancied the rules I laid down for you hard--remember it was all for
your own good. The world is full of snares--some of them cruel ones--for
the unwary. I saw that you were full of romance and poetry; and I--I did
my best, my dear. If you have thought me hard, you must forgive me
now--it was all for your own good. I know the value of a pure mind, an
innocent heart, and a spotless name; and that is the dowry you bring
your husband. No queen ever had one more regal. The Vaughans are a
proud old race. There has never been even the faintest slur or shadow
resting on any one who bore the name; and the highest praise that I can
give you is that you are worthy to bear it."
Adrian did not know why the fair young head was bent in such lowly
humility, why such passionate sobs rose to the girl's lips as he raised
her and held her for a moment in his arms.
"Go to your room, Hyacinth, and remove all traces of tears," said Lady
Vaughan. "We must be glad, not sorry, this evening--it is your betrothal
night. And see, here are the papers, Sir Arthur; now you will be quite
happy, and forgive that unfortunate mail train."