Was It Right to Forgive? Part 24

"I think perhaps I do _not_ know them. I think perhaps that your mother was right, and too much was made of the circ.u.mstances. However, I must say that I do not feel equal to another wedding. My work has been thrown back and out of order, and I did hope and look for a little peace and comfort now."

His air was worried and yet decisive, and as he sat down by Mrs.

Filmer and began to talk of their removal to Woodsome, Harry perceived that his affairs had been dismissed. He rose, went to his room, dressed for the evening, and then went to call upon Miss Alida. Her friend Selina Zabriski had just returned, but she was weary and invisible, and so Harry had Miss Alida's company without interruption.

She wondered at his visit, but instantly connected it with Adriana.

"Have you written to her?" she asked, with a knowing smile.

"I have been to see her. She is going to marry me as soon as you return to Woodsome."

"I told you to write. Why did you not follow my advice?"

"I bettered it."

"That is yet to be seen. Is Cousin Peter willing?"

"Yes. But my mother is very angry indeed, and greatly to my surprise, father is almost equally so."

"Henry Filmer has only a certain amount of good sense; he used it up on his daughter's affairs. Pray, what has Mrs. Filmer to say against your marriage?"

"She says I am her only son, and that it is very hard to have me taken away from her."

"She took Henry Filmer, who was an only son, from his father and mother."

"She does not like Yanna."

"It is not she who has to marry Yanna."

"She does not like the Van Hoosens."

"The Van Hoosens live and flourish without her liking. Now, Harry, what do you wish me to do?"

"We wish you to be glad with us--to approve our marriage."

"Your marriage suits me exactly. I am politely sorry it does not suit Mr. and Mrs. Filmer, but I like it. The sooner it takes place, the better I shall like it. When is it to be?"

"This month."

"Where?"

"In Woodsome. I was much pleased with the description Yanna's father gave of his wedding in the old Dutch church there; and we have resolved to have the same kind of simple ceremony."

"I am glad of that. I will stand by you. You are a couple of foolish young people; but your folly fits my wisdom, and so is warrantable.

Where are you going to live?"

"We have not considered that question yet."

"The sparrows and the tom-t.i.ts have more sense than you have. They do build a nest before they go to house-keeping."

"We shall find a nest."

"What faith! You will find a nest! Go, then, and buy the rings, and get your wedding suits, and speak to the Dominie, and look to Providence for a roof to cover you. You may say 'good night' now, Harry. Lovers never know the clock. They come too soon, and they go too late, and they talk about months when they mean ten or eleven days. Good night, sir!"

But as it is ordained that lovers, like other men, have only feet and hands, and not wings, Harry could not accomplish his marriage as soon as he desired. There was law, as well as love, to consult; there were also milliners and dressmakers to wait upon, and domestic and financial matters to consider; so that it was the middle of June before the wedding day arrived. It might have been still later, had not Miss Alida suddenly resolved to spend the summer in Europe. This resolve left her handsome house vacant, and she said frankly to Harry that "it would be a great kindness to her if he would borrow it for his summer residence." Nothing could have been more delightful, and it simplified other considerations at once, and gave to the bride and bridegroom an idyllic retreat for a long honeymoon.

"I said there would be a nest found for us!" cried Harry joyfully; and Miss Alida laughingly answered "that she had been driven from house and home, and sent to wander over the face of the earth, in order to find them a nest." But, in reality, the arrangement was convenient and pleasant on both sides.

The wedding day was one of royal sunshine, and the little church was crowded with sympathetic neighbors and acquaintances. People generally forget to be envious and ill-natured at a wedding, for the very presence of visible love seems to hold in abeyance evil thoughts and feelings. So, when Adriana, in a brave white satin dress, slashed with sunshine, walked up the aisle on her father's arm, and Harry followed with Miss Alida on his arm, there was a murmur of admiration and good will. The bride was so lovely and the bridegroom so handsome, and both were so radiantly happy, that every one present caught joy from them.

Through the open windows came the scent of lilacs and the twitter of birds, and the old pines, like mystical trees, waved to and fro in the open s.p.a.ces. The breath and the hope of the morning hours were yet in the air; the minister's smiling face and strong, cheerful words, went to the heart like wine; and an air of religious joy sanctified the rite. Blessed even to tears, the new husband and wife turned to each other, and then to the world, with hopes bright as the morning and purposes holy as their vows.

There was a large wedding breakfast at Miss Alida's, and then she had but just time to catch the train which would serve her steamer; and after her departure, one by one the visitors went away; so that, before sunset, Harry and Adriana were alone in their new home. Only one thing had marred the pleasure of the day; Harry's parents had refused to share it. Mr. Filmer had no special dislike to Adriana, but his wife had; and Mr. Filmer wisely considered that his summer's comfort and peace probably depended on his apparent sympathy. And with his great book on hand, how could he face the prospect of a prolonged disagreement on a subject so much beyond his control?

So he was investigating the Plantagenet influence on the social life of England while his son was being married, and he quite forgot all about the circ.u.mstance. But Mrs. Filmer was fretting in every room of her fine house, and feeling the ceremony in every nerve of her body and pulse of her heart. Her restlessness indeed became so great that she drove through the village in the afternoon, determined to be very gracious to any one who could talk to her on the subject. She met no one who could do so; though, for some time, society in Woodsome divided itself very broadly into Mrs. Henry Filmer's friends and Mrs.

Harry Filmer's friends.

Anyway, the Filmers, old and young, kept the village folk and the summer residents in delightful gossip and partisanship; for when a lady was tired of one side, or considered herself slighted by one side, she easily turned to the other; and thus, and so, the Filmer controversy lived on through the season. At the close of it, the old Filmers were in the ascendant. Mrs. Henry had given many fine entertainments, and people liked them, for each fresh invitation contained the possibility of being a reconciliation party; and each failure of this hope renewed the life of the old grievance and the interesting discussion of it.

On the contrary, Harry and Adriana were provokingly satisfied with their own company. They were seen driving or riding together; and people caught glimpses of them strolling among the flowers and shrubs, or sitting together on the shady galleries; but they gave no b.a.l.l.s, or lawn parties, or afternoon teas, and they did not seem to care whether friends called upon them or not. For new married couples have generally a contempt for the rest of the world, and to love and to be wise at the same time is a blessing rarely granted.

So the days danced away with down upon their feet, and there was no talk of anything between Harry and Adriana than their own great love and happiness--not at least for many weeks. But, as the dusty summer waned, they began to think of the future, and to plan for its necessities. In the winter they would certainly have to live in New York, and it seemed, therefore, best to make their home there. Harry was busy looking at houses for sale, and Adriana constantly going into the city to examine their advertised perfections. An element of unrest came into the beautiful summer nest, and something of that melancholy which haunts the birds just before their migration. The May of their lives was past. The time of labor and care was at hand. Even financially, Harry began to be aware that the love that had made him dream must now make him work.

So they watched eagerly for Miss Alida's letters. Hitherto they had been full of traveller's gossip and complaints; but there had been no mention of her return, and so far they had not been sorry for the delay. But September brought a different feeling. Harry wanted to go to the city. His visits to it made him long for the financial fray, for society, for his old duties and amus.e.m.e.nts. He began to fret at his inaction, to be a trifle irritable with Miss Alida for her long visit, and at last to stop in the city for two and three days at a time.

"I wish Miss Alida would come home," said Adriana to her father one morning. She had driven herself to the post-office, and called at Peter's on her way back. "I wish she would come. We have had no letter from her for two weeks. I am uneasy about her--and about Harry."

"Why are you uneasy about Harry?" asked Peter.

"He stays in the city too often. He says 'business' demands his presence. Father, I do not like it. I want to be in the city with him.

I am sure I ought to be. Why does he stay there? He could come home if he wished to do so."

Peter looked gravely into his daughter's anxious face. He could see the unshed tears in her eyes. He had himself suffered from her mother's over-love and jealous care, and he said earnestly:

"Yanna, my best loved one! Before all other advice about your husband, consider some words I am going to give you. I gave them to Gertrude and Augusta; when they first began to worry about this thing--_a wife should have eyelids as well as eyes_. Do not see too much. Do not hear too much. Do not feel too much. And be sure not to imagine too much.

G.o.d made both men and women, and they are not alike. Remember that, dear girl--_they are not alike_." He clasped her hand, and she smiled through her tears, and with a brave little nod turned her horse's head and drove slowly home.

When she reached the Van Hoosen place, she found that Miss Alida had returned. The old lady came to the door with a "Good morning, Mrs.

Harry Filmer! Why was not Harry at the dock to meet me?"

"We did not know you were coming. Oh, I wish we had! We would have both been there."

"I thought so, and as I hate a fuss, I just dropped home without a word. Do I look ten years older? I feel twenty. No place like home! your own home! I hope we shall all have our own homes in heaven--country ones, too. I should tire awfully of that great mult.i.tude on the golden streets. Oh, Yanna, how good it is to see you! Where is Harry?"

"In New York. He has to go there very often now. He says it is business."

"It is business, undoubtedly. Here is the cup of chocolate I ordered.

Sit down and talk to me, while I drink it. Then I will go to sleep, and you can take off your driving gear."

But she found it impossible to sleep; she had so much to tell, and so much to show. And suddenly she raised herself from an open trunk, and holding out a case of Apostle spoons, said, "These are a present from Rose. When did you hear from her?"

"She has written very seldom to me lately. But I thought perhaps she had been influenced by her mother. That would be quite natural. Did you see her?"