The Wedding Guest Part 19

Our hallowed fairy ring.

We've known a many sorrows, sweet!

We've wept a many tears, And often trod with trembling feet Our pilgrimage of years.

But when our sky grew dark and wild, All closelier did we cling; Clouds broke to beauty as you smiled, Peace crowned our fairy ring, Dear love!

Our hallowed fairy ring.

Away, grim lords of murderdom; Away, oh! Hate and Strife!

Hence, revellers, reeling drunken from Your feast of human life!

Heaven shield our little Goshen round From ills that with them spring, And never be their footsteps found Within our fairy ring, Dear love!

Our hallowed fairy ring.

FANNIE'S BRIDAL.

PART I.

IT was to be a quiet wedding. Fannie would have it so; only _his_ relations. She, poor thing, was an orphan, and only spirit-parents could hover around her on this great era of her life.

The bride entered the large, sunny parlour, leaning upon the arm of her stately husband. Her white lace robe, and the fleecy veil upon her head, floated cloud-like around her fragile, almost child-like form. Peace hovered like a white dove over her pure brow, and a truthful earnestness dwelt in the dark brown eyes.

On one side of the room nearest the bay-windows, Where the sunset kept shining and shining between The old hawthorn blossoms and branches so green,

stood the eight brothers of the groom. All tall, dark, stately men, pride in ever black glancing eye; the same curl upon every finely formed lip, harsh upon some, softer upon others, yet still there, tracing the same blood through all; the same inherent qualities of the father transmitted to the sons. One brother was a type of all, differing only as pictures and copies--in the shade and touch.

Upon the opposite aside were seated the five sisters of the groom, not so like one another. One had blue eyes, another auburn curls, one a nose retrousse, a fourth was fresh and rosy, a fifth round-faced; still the same pride had found a resting-place on some fine feature of each face, and stamped it with the seal of sisterhood. The same sap ran in all the branches, and each branch put forth the same leaves.

The thirteen faces had been stern and cold, but when their youngest brother and his fair bride came in, affection and curiosity softened their eyes, as for the first time she appeared before them. Some thought her too delicate, others too young; the sisters, that Harwood could have looked higher; but all felt drawn to that shrinking form and pale countenance; each hand had a warm grasp for hers, each curling lip a sweet smile, and the manly voices softened to welcome her into their proud family. Gracefully she received all, happy and joyful as a child. But the first shadow fell with the sunlight.

"Brothers and sisters," said Harwood pleadingly, "upon this my wedding day cast aside your bitterness of spirit for ever, and become as one--"

"Harwood!" replied quickly the elder sister, "upon this--this happy day, we hide all feelings called forth by the malice and unbrother-like conduct of our brothers, but only for the present; we, can never become reconciled."

A silence fell upon all; strange as it may seem, the sisters were colder and sterner than the brothers. A frown settled upon every brow; the lips curled with contempt. A storm was tossing the waves, but peace breathed upon the waters and all was calm. The presence of the bride restrained angry expressions of feeling.

This was the first knowledge that Fannie had of the family feud; tears stood in her soft eyes, and the rosy lips trembled; but her husband's bright glance, and gentle pressure of her hand, rea.s.sured her. There was no more warmth that day--during the ceremony and the brief stay of the newly married. The sisters gathered around the young wife, and the brothers around Harwood. Occasional words were interchanged; but there reigned an invisible barrier, that seemed to say "so far shalt thou come but no farther."

When the carriage stood at the door and Fannie and Harwood stepped in, she stretched out her pretty hand and beckoned to the elder brother and sister; they approached; she took a hand of each, saying in a trembling voice:

"You both breathe the same air; the same beautiful sunlight shines upon you; you pray to the same G.o.d, both say 'forgive us our trespa.s.ses as we forgive them that trespa.s.s against us.' Be examples for those younger--let me join your hands--" But the sister, with a frown, threw aside the little hand rudely, the brother pressed the one he held, but laughed maliciously. The carriage drove on, and the fair head rested sobbing upon the shoulder of her husband. Sadly did he relate to her the family feud, a quarrel of ten years' standing; sisters against brothers, resting on a belief of unfairness in the disposition of the will of a relation. The sisters pa.s.sed the brothers upon the street without speaking, refused them admittance to their house. Harwood being the youngest, was too young to take part in the quarrel, and had never been expected to do so.

Poor Fannie wept bitterly; but tears more bitter yet were in store for her.

PART II.

Upon her return from the bridal tour, no sooner was Fannie settled in her new home, than the family feud endeavoured to draw her from her quiet course, to take part for or against. Numberless were the grievances related to her. All that could be said or done, to convince her that the sisters were "sinned against instead of sinning," were brought forward.

"Well, Fannie," said the elder brother, one day, "I met my immaculate elder sister, just coming out of your door. Has she been giving you a catalogue of fraternal sins? She would not speak to _me_. She carries her head high. It maddens me to think how contemptuously we are treated, and being food for talk beside."

Fannie hesitated; she could not reply, for Jessie had been venting a fit of ill humour upon him, and it was only adding fuel to the fire, to repeat.

"Say, Fannie, what _did_ the old maid say? That it was a pity we were not all dead?"

"Oh! hush," she replied, holding up her hand reprovingly. "I am very unhappy at your continued disagreements. If," she continued, timidly, "you would but take a little advice--I know I am young, but--

"Let us have it," he returned, quickly, turning away from the pleading eyes.

"You will not be angry with me?"

"No, no; let me hear!"

"You are the eldest; your example, is followed by the seven brothers; your influence with them is great; you give an 'eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.' Jessie and the others may have a foundation for their ill-will. You have never endeavoured to discover what this is.

Your pride took offence, and you say to yourself _that_ can never bend. Was this right?"

Her voice trembled, her head drooped, and in spite of her self-command, she burst into tears.

"Fannie! sister Fannie!"

"Don't mind me; I am weak, nervous, foolish. I shall soon be better; but it makes me so very unhappy to see you all at enmity. I had hoped, when I came among you, to have been the olive branch, but--"

"Fannie! dear sister Fannie!" he exclaimed, walking up and down the room, "you have been--we are fire-brands plucked from the burning.

You have said all that any one could have said; yes, and done all that could be done; never repeated any malicious speech, selected all the wheat that could be culled from the chaff. You have softened my obdurate heart. I have done wrong; you have shown me to the way of return. If Jessie will come forward and forgive and forget, then will I."

But Fannie knew that it was not so easy to make Jessie be the first to own her errors and forgive. The brothers had done much to make the division wider, in the way of hints and malicious whisperings; and she continued weeping so wildly and hysterically, that the elder brother endeavoured to console her, and was glad when Harwood came, and lifting her in his arms, carried her up to her room.

When he returned, the elder brother still stood by the fire-place.

He turned and spoke.

"Fannie is very fragile and pale. Is she not well?"

"Not very. This family feud troubles her. She has taken it to heart.

When we were first married, she told me a dozen plans she had made for your reunion, and made me a party to them, but now--"

He sighed; the elder brother sighed more deeply; both were silent; the fire-light leaped up, lighting the room--a fierce, avenging blaze; then died out, and all was gloom. Where were the thoughts of that elder brother? They were wandering among the graves of the past. In his imagination, new ones were there; the names on the tomb-stones were familiar; the thirteen were all there; twelve sleeping; his the only restless, wandering spirit. Fannie stood before him, her face pale and tearful. She pointed to the graves, and said, sadly, "This is the end of all earthly things." That night he knocked at the door of his sister's mansion but gained no admittance.

PART III

The anniversary of Fannie's bridal was the counterpart of the original. Sunny and genial, with here and there a white cloud floating near the horizon, denoting a long and happy married life, with but threatening troubles. How was the prophecy realized? Like all riddles of earthly solution, to the contrary?

The eight brothers, with faces of stern grief in the same old corner, side by side; the five sisters sobbing, tearful and quite overwhelmed with sorrow, sat opposite, Their eyes were fixed upon the same pair. Harwood knelt beside a couch in the middle of the room, and there lay Fannie; but how changed! They had all been summoned there, to see that new sister depart for another world; to see the young breath grow fainter and fainter; the bright eyes close for ever on them and their love. Oh! mystery of Life! thee we can know and understand; but, mystery of Death, dark and fearful, only thy chosen ones can comprehend thee. We walk to the verge of the valley of the shadow of death with those we love; but there our steps are stayed, and we look into the black void with wonder and despair. Oh! faith! if ye come not then to the rescue, that death is eternal.