Elsie's Womanhood Part 20

"My darling!" murmured the father, in low, half tremulous accents, putting his arm about the slender waist, "my beautiful darling! how can I give you to another?" and again and again his lips were pressed to hers in long, pa.s.sionate kisses.

"Papa, please don't make me cry," she pleaded, the soft eyes lifted to his, filled almost to overflowing.

"No, no, I must not," he said, hastily taking out his handkerchief and wiping away the tears before they fell. "It is shamefully selfish in me to come and disturb your mind thus just now."

"No, papa, no, no; I will not have you say that. Thank you for coming. It would have hurt me had you stayed away. But you would not have things different now if you could? have no desire to."

"No, daughter, no; yet, unreasonable as it is, the thought will come, bringing sadness with it, that to-night you resign my name, and my house ceases to be your only home."

"Papa, I shall never resign the name dear to me because inherited from you: I shall only add to it; your house shall always be one of my dear homes, and I shall be your own, own daughter, your own child, as truly as I ever have been. Is it not so?"

"Yes, yes, my precious little comforter."

"And you are not going to give me away--ah, papa, I could never bear that any more than you; you are taking a partner in the concern," she added with playful tenderness, smiling archly through gathering tears.

Again he wiped them hastily away. "Did ever father have such a dear daughter?" he said, gazing fondly down into the sweet face. "I ought to be the happiest of men. I believe I am----"

"Except one," exclaimed a joyous voice, at sound of which Elsie's eyes brightened and the color deepened on her cheek. "May I come in?"

"Yes, Travilla," said Mr. Dinsmore; "you have now an equal right with me."

Travilla thought his was superior, or would be after the ceremony, but generously refrained from saying so. And had Mr. Dinsmore been questioned on the subject, he could not have a.s.serted that it had ever occurred to him that Mr. Allison had an equal right with himself in Rose. But few people are entirely consistent.

Mr. Travilla drew near the two, still standing together, and regarded his bride with a countenance beaming with love and delight. The sweet eyes sought his questioningly, and meeting his ardent gaze the beautiful face sparkled all over with smiles and blushes.

"Does my toilet please you, my friend?" she asked. "And you, papa?"

"The general effect is charming," said Mr. Travilla; "but," he added, in low, tender tones saying far more than the words, "I've been able to see nothing else for the dear face that is always that to me."

"I can see no flaw in face or attire," Mr. Dinsmore said, taking a more critical survey; "you are altogether pleasing in your doting father's eyes, my darling. But you must not stand any longer. You will need all your strength for your journey." And he would have led her to a sofa.

But she gently declined. "Ah, I am much too fine to sit down just now, my dear, kind father, I should crush my lace badly. So please let me stand. I am not conscious of weariness."

He yielded, saying with a smile, "That would be a pity; for it is very beautiful. And surely you ought to be allowed your own way to-night if ever."

"To-night and ever after," whispered the happy groom in the ear of his bride.

A loving, trustful look was her only answer.

A continued rolling of wheels without, and buzz of voices coming from veranda, hall, and reception rooms, could now be heard.

"The house must be filling fast," said Mr. Dinsmore, "and as host I should be present to receive and welcome my guests, Travilla," and his voice trembled slightly, as he took Elsie's right hand and held it for a moment closely clasped in his; "I do not fear to trust you with what to me is a greater treasure than all the gold of California. Cherish my darling as the apple of your eye; I know you will."

He bent down for another silent caress, laid the hand in that of his friend, and left the room.

"And you do not fear to trust me, my little friend?" Travilla's tones, too, were tremulous with deep feeling.

"I have not the shadow of a fear," she answered, her eyes meeting his with an earnest, childlike confidence.

"Bless you for those words, dearest," he said; "G.o.d helping me you never shall have cause to regret them."

A door opened, and a handsome, dark eyed boy, a miniature likeness of his father, came hurrying in. "Elsie! Papa said I might come and see how beautiful you are!" he cried, as if resolutely mastering some strong emotion, "but I'm not to say anything to make you cry. I'm not to hug you hard and spoil your dress. Oh, but you do look like an angel, only without the wings. Mr. Travilla, you'll be good, _good_ to her, won't you?" and the voice almost broke down.

"I will, indeed, Horace; you may be sure of that. And you needn't feel as if you are losing her, she'll be back again in a few weeks, please G.o.d."

"But not to live at home any more!" he cried impetuously. "No, no, I wasn't to say that, I----"

"Come here and kiss me, my dear little brother," Elsie said tenderly; "and you shall hug me, too, as hard as you like, before I go."

He was not slow to accept the invitation, and evidently had a hard struggle with himself, to refrain from giving the forbidden hug.

"You may hug me instead, Horace, if you like," said Mr. Travilla; "you know we're very fond of each other, and are going to be brothers now."

"Yes, that I will, for I do like you ever so much," cried the boy, springing into the arms held out to him, and receiving and returning a warm embrace, while the sister looked on with eyes glistening with pleasure.

"Now, in a few minutes I'll become your brother Edward; and that's what I want you to call me in future. Will you do it?"

"Yes, sir; if papa doesn't forbid me."

A light tap at the door leading into the boudoir, and Walter put in his head. "The company, the clergy-man, and the hour have come. Are the bride and groom ready?"

"Yes."

Releasing the child, Mr. Travilla drew Elsie's hand within his arm. For an instant he bent his eyes with earnest, questioning gaze upon her face.

It wore an expression that touched him to the heart, so perfectly trustful, so calmly, peacefully happy, yet with a deep tender solemnity mingling with and subduing her joy. The soft eyes were misty with unshed tears as she lifted them to his.

"It is for life," she whispered; "and I am but young and foolish; shall you never regret?"

"Never, _never_; unless you grow weary of your choice."

The answering smile was very sweet and confiding. "I have not chosen lightly, and do not fear because it is for life," was its unspoken language.

And truly it was no hasty, ill-considered step she was taking, but one that had been calmly, thoughtfully pondered in many an hour of solitude and communion with that unseen Friend whom from earliest youth she had acknowledged in all her ways, and who had, according to His promise, directed her paths. There was no excitement, no nervous tremor, about her then or during the short ceremony that made them no more twain but one flesh. So absorbed was she in the importance and solemnity of the act she was performing, that little room was left for thought of anything else--her personal appearance, or the hundreds of pairs of eyes fixed upon her; even her father's presence, and the emotions swelling in his breast were for the time forgotten. Many marked the rapt expression of her face, and the clear and distinct though low tones of the sweet voice as she pledged herself to "love, honor, and obey." Mr. Travilla's promise "to love, honor, and cherish to life's end," was given no less earnestly and emphatically.

The deed was done; and relatives and friends gathered about them with kindly salutations and good wishes.

Mr. Dinsmore was the first to salute the bride. "G.o.d bless and keep you, my daughter," were his tenderly whispered words.

"Dear, dear papa," was all she said in response, but her eyes spoke volumes. "I am yours still, your very own, and glad it is so," they said.

Then came Rose with her tender, silent caress, half-sorrowful, half-joyful, and Mrs. Travilla with her altogether joyous salutation, "My dear daughter, may your cup of happiness be ever filled to overflowing;"

while Mr. Dinsmore to hide his emotion turned jocosely to Travilla with a hearty shake of the hand, and "I wish you joy, my son."

"Thank you, father," returned the groom gravely, but with a twinkle of merriment in his eye.

Aunt Wealthy, standing close by awaiting her turn to greet the bride, shook her head at her nephew. "Ah, you are quite too old for that, Horace.

Mr. Vanilla, I wish you joy; but what am I to call you now?"

"Edward, if you please, Aunt Wealthy."