Evenings At Donaldson Manor Part 25

Mrs. Dudley, in similar costume, was attended by Philip Donaldson, who looked a perfect gentleman of the Sir Charles Grandison style in his full dress, with bag-wig and sword. Arthur Donaldson, in the graceful and becoming costume of the gallant Hotspur, was seated with his Kate by his side, and if Kate Percy looked but half as lovely in her bridal array as did her present representative, she was well worthy a hero's homage. But in the background, evidently shrinking from observation, stood a figure more interesting to me than all these--it was our "sweet Annie" as Zuleika--our Bride, _not_ of Abydos--leaning on the arm of a Selim habited in a costume as correct and as magnificent as her own, yet who could scarcely be said to _look_ the character well; the open brow of Mr. Arlington, where lofty and serene thought seemed to have fixed its throne, and his eyes bright with present enjoyment and future hope, bearing little resemblance to our imaginations of the wronged and desperate Selim, whose very joy seemed but a lightning flash, lending intenser darkness to the night of his despair. I was the last to enter the room, and as I approached Mr. Arlington, he presented me with a very beautiful bouquet. I found afterwards that he had made the same graceful offering to each of the ladies at the Manor, having received them from the city, to which he had sent for his Greek dress and Philip's wig. Put up in the ingenious cases now used for this purpose, the flowers had come looking as freshly as though they had that moment been plucked. The bouquet appropriated to Annie differed from all the others. It was composed of white camelias, moss-rose buds, and violets. As I was admiring it, Annie pointed to one of the rose-buds as being eminently lovely in its formation and beautiful in its delicate shading. It was beautiful, but my attention was more attracted by the sparkling of a diamond ring I had never before seen upon her finger. The diamond was unusually large, the antique setting tasteful. With an inconsideration of which I flatter myself I am not often guilty, I exclaimed in surprised admiration, "Why, Annie, where did you get that beautiful ring?"

The sudden withdrawing of the little hand, the quick flushing of cheek, neck, brow, told the tale at once; a tale corroborated by the smiling glance which met mine as it was turned for a moment on Mr. Arlington.

Her confusion was beautiful, but he was too generous to enjoy it, and strove to bring me back to the flowers.

"Have you ever seen some beautiful verses, translated from the German, by Edward Everett I believe, ent.i.tled 'The Flower Angels?'" he asked.

"I never did; can you repeat them?"

He answered by immediately reciting the verses which I here give to the reader.

THE FLOWER ANGELS.

As delicate forms as is thine, my love, And beauty like thine, have the angels above; Yet men cannot see them, though often they come On visits to earth from their native home.

Thou ne'er wilt behold them, but if thou wouldst know The houses in which, when they wander below, The Angels are fondest of pa.s.sing their hours, I'll tell thee, fair lady--they dwell in the flowers.

Each flower, as it blossoms, expands to a tent For the house of a visiting angel meant; From his flight o'er the earth he may there find repose, Till again to the vast tent of heaven he goes.

And this angel his dwelling-place keeps in repair, As every good man of his dwelling takes care; All around he adorns it, and paints it well, And much he's delighted within it to dwell.

True sunshine of gold, from the orb of day, He borrows, his roof with its light to inlay; All the lines of each season to him he calls, And with them he tinges his chamber walls.

The bread angels eat, from the flower's fine meal, He bakes, so that hunger he never can feel; He brews from the dew-drop a drink fresh and good, And every thing does which a good angel should.

And greatly the flowers, as they blossom, rejoice That they are the home of the angel's choice; And again when to heaven the angel ascends, The flower falls asunder, the stalk droops and bends.

If thou, my dear lady, in truth art inclined, The spirits of heaven beside thee to find, Reflect on the flowers and love them moreover, And angels will always around thee hover.

A flower do but plant near thy window-gla.s.s, And through it no spirit of evil can pa.s.s; When thou goest abroad, on thy bosom wear A nosegay, and trust me an angel is near.

Do but water the lilies at break of day, For the hours of the morn thou'lt be whiter than they; Let a rose round thy bed night-sentry keep, And angels will rock thee on roses to sleep.

No frightful dreams can approach thy bed, For around thee an angel his watch will have spread; And whatever visions thy Guardian, to thee, Permits to come in, very good ones will be.

When thus thou art kept by a heavenly spell, Shouldst thou now and then dream that I love thee right well; Be sure that with fervor and truth I adore thee, Or an angel had ne'er set mine image before thee.

The visitors soon began to arrive. There were among them some amusing characters, so well supported as to give rise during the evening to many entertaining scenes; but to me this was the group and this the incident of the evening. Not a group or an incident for prurient curiosity or frivolous jest, but for an earnest and reverent recognition of that beautiful law imposed on Nature by her Great Author, by which the feeble delight in receiving, and the strong in giving support--that law by which a pure and self-abnegating affection is made the source of life in all its commingling relations--of its duties and its sympathies--its joys and its sorrows--of its severest probation and its loftiest development.

It was in the solemnity of spirit, engendered by thoughts like these, that I stood at the window of my room, looking forth upon the still and moonlit night, long after our friends had left us. My door opened softly and Annie glided in, and ere I was aware of her presence, was standing beside me with her head resting on my shoulder. A tear was on the cheek to which I pressed my lips. A few whispered words told me whence the ring came--but not for the public are the pure, guileless confidences of that hour.

Our holiday festivities were over, and the next day the Christmas Guests departed. They had stepped aside awhile from the dusty thoroughfares on which they were accustomed to pursue their several avocations, for the interchange of friendly sympathy with each other, and the offering of grateful hearts to Heaven, and now they were returning, cheered and strengthened to their allotted work. Reader, go thou and do likewise

"Like a star That maketh not haste, That taketh no rest, Let each be fulfilling His G.o.d-given best."

THE END.