40 A HASTY MARRIAGE.
faial, for the curtain was rising, and Walter
was no longer beside me. We stood alone before the squire, who stretched his fat figure to
its utmost height, and pompously began, with
what formula I do not know. - Mr. Harter, after
one glance at my face, stood in his place immovable, and answered whatever fell to his
share; I suppose I did the same, mechanically.
The bystanders listened and looked, some in
delight, some in wonder, the rest simply in
horror. I heard low-toned exclamations mingling, ‘‘What a dear!” ‘How sweet she is!”
‘Just like a bride, with that wreath of roses
in her hair!” from a few of the very youngest
and silliest. But, ‘‘How pale!” ‘How very
natural!” “It seems almost too true!” from
the older ladies; and downright murmurs and
imprecations among the gentlemen. A dozen
sprang forward to interrupt, but Mr. Harter
sternly waved them back. When it was over,
he strode up to the complacent squire,
“You have made me the happiest man in the world, Mr. Bannister,” he said.
Then it rushed over me like a whirlwind what I had done. Was I mad, or dreaming? Were the deeds of this night a real horror? Was this man truly my husband? I had disengaged my hand, and stood alone. It was the cue for the Drummond girls and others, to rush up to me and cry over me, to declare that they never could have believed it, and ask me how long I had been engaged.
II.
They might as well have talked to a statue, for I was in a still frenzy of trouble, and could not heed them—and chilled by my cold, unresponsive manner, they all withdrew. It was time to go home, and we hooded and cloaked, in mysterious silence, in our dressing-room; I, with my trembling fingers and nervous haste, the last to leave it. When I came down, all were in the sleighs. Only one tall, dark figure waited in the hall for me, beside Mrs. M‘Donald. The icy wind from the avenue sweeping up, flared the lamp-light in his face: it was not Walter Drummond, but Mr. Harter. Could it be true, then? Was he really my husband?
Good Mrs. M‘Donald took me in her motherly arms, as she bade me good-by, and kissed and blessed me. She was the first who had thought of doing that, and I could have burst into a tempest of tears on her kind breast, but I dared not yield to the impulse. My strength was already fast giving way, and only pride kept me from fainting and failing at sight of that dark, sentinel figure.
In silence he offered his arm. I took it—there was no help: Walter Drummond sat in his place before his sisters, the seat beside him vacant. He had chosen to desert me, I said to myself, in this trial hour: We advanced toward it, though Mr. Harter’s own beautiful little sleigh was drawn up on the opposite side, his man holding the pawing horse, who neighed and shook his bells impatiently.
I trembled on his arm—was there to be a col- lision between the two men? We halted before the double sleigh; but Walter never moved, while my escort lifted me gently into my old place, only kissing the hand he released. Rais- ing his hat, he stood bare-headed in the star- light till we drove off; and then we heard his horse’s feet and bells hurrying away in the direction of his own house.
Some tender, gentle impulse of my heart seemed to go with them; and a thrill of pity, in the midst of my own trouble, followed that lonely flight; for there was something knightly, almost, and grand, in the rude miner’s chivalry. More than this, I was deeply grateful to him for the act of renunciation.
I was free, it was evident. Periled by my own fault, how sweet seemed liberty now, even the poorest, liberty to toil! Now that I had felt, for one moment, what bonds might be, I willingly accepted the pains and penalties of freedom, and was ready to find them light. And yet—and yet—he had been kind, and he seemed to pity me; the touch of his kiss was still soft upon my hand. Had he been younger and more graceful, I might; perhaps, even have loved him in my friendless and helpless state, my utter isolation from others.
As it was, I could only rejoice, silently, it is true, for nothing was said during our short drive. Our destination was soon reached. The handsome house was blazing with lights from roof to basement; and late as the hour was, the great doors were thrown wide open, and the servants, with the master and mistress at their head, ranged along the broad hall on either side. Here our large company was to be entertained for the night; was to spend the next day, and be present at a great dinner-party that would call all the county together.
I was assigned a room to myself, and hastened to its shelter as soon as politeness permitted; neglectful of the mulled-wine and other refreshments, in which some of the ladies, and all the gentlemen, were indulging, for I feared to encounter any of the mirth or jesting that would be sure to follow; to hear, perhaps, some playful allusions to my mimic marriage, and be
