ON THE WAY HOME.
"My darling--my wife! Look up and tell me that your joy is equal to
mine," said Hurst, when he and his bride were seated in the carriage.
"No! that is impossible; but say that you are happy, my Ruth!"
"Happy!" said the girl. "Oh, Walton, it is cruel that I can be so; but
I am--I am!"
The young man took her hands in his, and kissed them with passionate
warmth.
"You will never repent, Ruth?"
"Repent that I am your wife! That you--" Here the girl's great earnest
eyes fell and were shaded at once by lashes black as themselves.
"Well, darling, what more?"
"That you are my husband."
The word seemed to flood her heart with sunshine, and her face with
burning blushes. Its very sound was full of exquisite shame. Hurst
drew that face to his bosom and kissed it with tender reverence.
"Now, my beloved, we are all the world to each other."
"All, all," she murmured; "but, oh, what will my father do?"
"He can do nothing, Ruth. But that his word was so rashly given, and
his love for the old family so near a religion, that his consent could
never have been attained, even though Sir Noel had himself commanded
it--there should have been no secrecy in this."
"Oh, if that had been possible! But Sir Noel never would have seen his
heir stoop as he has done for a wife."
"Sir Noel is not like other men of his class, my Ruth. His pride is
too noble for small prejudices. Besides, I think he has suspected from
the first how dear you are to me; for in a conversation the other day
he seemed to hint at a vague approval. But for this I should not have
acted without his positive consent."
"But my father never would have given _his_ consent, even if Sir Noel
himself had commanded it," said Ruth. "He would rather die than drag
down the dignity of the Hursts."
"It was this stiff-necked integrity that forced me to a step that will
be more likely to anger Sir Noel than the marriage itself would have
done. One glimpse of the truth would have aroused your father to drive
me from his house, dearly as he has always loved me. Then would have
come this question of young Storms--don't tremble so--are you not my
wife?"
"I--I should have been compelled to marry him. He loves me. My father
would die for me any minute; but were I fifty times as dear he would
sacrifice me to the dignity of the Hursts--to a promise once given,"
said Ruth, lifting her face from the bosom where it had rested.
"But you?"
"I could not have resisted. My father is so loving--so kind. He would
have told me of your grandeur, your long descent, of the noble--nay,
royal ladies--that had been mated with the Hursts. He would have
crushed me under the weight of my own miserable presumption. He would
have told me, in plain speech, what my heart reproaches me with every
minute now most of all, when I am daring to be so happy."
"But you are happy?"
"Oh, Walton, it seems like wickedness, but I am; so weak, however, so
fearful of what must come. Oh, give me a little time! Permit me to
dream a while until some chance or great necessity makes concealment
impossible. I have no courage left."
"But this Storms?"
"I have got a little respite from my father; he will not break his
word, though I pleaded with him almost upon my knees--but I am not to
be hurried. They are to give me time, and now, that I know in my heart
that it can never, never be, the terror of him is gone. So let me have
just one little season of rest before you break this to my poor
father, and make me afraid to look Sir Noel in the face."
Perhaps this sweet pleading found some answer in the young man's
wishes, for in speaking of Sir Noel's conversation in the library, he
had discovered how little there was in it to warrant the step he had
taken. At the best there was much in his rash precipitancy to
displease the proud old baronet, though he should be found willing to
forgive the mesalliance he had made.
If these thoughts had great influence with Hurst, the terror and
troubled eloquence of his bride completed his conviction. Drawing Ruth
gently toward him, he kissed her upon the forehead; for this
conversation, coming into the midst of their happiness, had subdued
them both.
"Be it as you wish, sweet wife. With perfect love and trust in each
other, we need be in no haste to let any one share our secret."
"Oh, how kind you are!" exclaimed the girl, brightening into fresh
happiness. "This will give me time to study, to add something to the
education that will be precious to me now; perhaps I can make myself
less unworthy of your father's forgiveness."
"Unworthy?" answered Hurst, wounded, yet half charmed by her sweet
humility. "Sir Noel has always looked upon you as a pretty favorite,
whom it was a pleasure to protect; and my cousin, the Lady Rose--"
"Ah, how ungrateful, how forward she will think me! My heart grows
heavy when her name is mentioned."
"She has always been your friend, Ruth."
"I know--I know; and in return I have had the presumption to think of
making myself her equal."
"There can be no presumption in the wife of a Hurst accepting all that
he has to give; but let us talk of something else. If our happiness is
to be a secret, we must not mar its first dawning with apprehensions
and regrets. Some perplexities will arise, for our position will be an
embarrassing one; but there is no reason why we should anticipate
them. It will be difficult enough to guard our secret so well that no
one shall guess it."
Ruth was smiling. She could not think it difficult to keep a secret
that seemed to her far too sweet and precious for the coarser sympathy
of the world. The sacredness of her marriage was rendered more
profound by the silence that sanctified it to her mind.
But now the carriage stopped, and the driver was heard getting down
from the box. Hurst looked out.
They were in a village through which the railroad passed--not the one
they had stopped at. They had been taken above that by a short route
from the church, which the driver had chosen without consultation.
"So soon! Surely we are in the wrong place," said Hurst, impatient
that his happiness should be broken in upon.
"You seemed particular about meeting the down train, sir, and I came
the nearest way. It is due in five minutes," answered the man,
touching his hat.
There was no time for expostulation or regret. In fact, the man had
acted wisely, if "Norston's Rest" was to be reached in time to save
suspicion. So the newly-married pair separated with a hurried
hand-clasp, each took a separate carriage, and glided safely into
dreamland, as the train flew across the country at the rate of fifty
miles an hour.