The wedding day came—a beautiful day, filled with the glory of June sunshine, warm, sweet, brilliant—bringing in its perfection omens of great happiness.
The old home gained in beauty as the grove about it grew heavily laden with the honeyed fragrance of the magnolia blossoms, and the deep green leaves became even more varnished and glistening. The cool shadows and the topaz patches of sunlight mingled upon the tall columns; the red-tiled roof glowed as if with an understanding of its responsibility that day.
Natalia rose in the early morning and passing through the hall, where already there were signs of much stirring and preparation, went out into the garden. It was still very early. The first smoke from the quarters was curling lazily upward, and from the barn came the tinkling sound of bells as the cows were led into the pens for milking; and all through the atmosphere, insistent and penetrating, was that indefinable, vibrating sound of nature awakening in the early morning.
The garden greeted her with a burst of bloom, veiled timidly in its protection of dew. She lifted her face to the soft air, and breathed the delicious fragrance of the honeysuckle. Everything was perfect to her at this moment. She looked through the eyes of one to whom the world has become a consummation of ideals.
She lingered beside the pomegranate bush, smiling as she vainly sought for the jay-bird's nest that she had found there when a child; then she strolled on into the depths of the grove. How fortunate she was, she reflected, as her eyes lingered on all her surroundings, to have this quiet, beautiful spot in which to solemnize the marriage that was to bring her completeness. How perfect that her honeymoon should be spent in the surroundings that her mother and father had known at such a time. In each detail she imagined she could discover some preference of theirs; in the quiet and aloofness of the early morning she felt intuitively that they were with her.
The sound of a step behind her made her turn quickly, a quick frown at the interruption changing instantly into a smile of happiness, for Morgan had seen her from his window and followed her.
"It is our wedding day, sweetheart," he said when he had reached her and put his arm about her. "Our wedding day—think of it! May I be the first to kiss you on such an important day?"
Natalia looked up at him thoughtfully, dwelling with a tender glance upon his bright, manly face and fair hair. In the morning brilliance he shone resplendent, catching, as if by natural attraction, all the beauty and freshness of the day in his brilliant colouring and deep blue eyes.
"Is it such an important day?" Natalia answered softly. "I sometimes wonder if marriage is not an anticlimax. The greatest moment to me was when I realized that I loved you. Nothing will ever equal the joy of that—not even our wedding."
"That is a girl's way of looking at it," Morgan laughed easily. "With a man it is quite different. You see, dear, he fears so that the girl might change her mind, that he is not really happy and satisfied until she actually belongs to him."
"There you go, Morgan." Natalia looked away, answering his smile half-heartedly. "Joking when I am serious. But it is very fortunate, I suppose. I should always see the serious side of life if it were not for you. I am so glad that we are different, dear. You see—we are antidotes. You correct my seriousness—I sober your lightheartedness."
Morgan looked at her curiously.
"Yet you can be as gay as I, Natalia. You were so at school; you were on our long voyage together. It is only since we have been engaged that you have changed. What is it? Are you not entirely happy?"
"Of course I am—the happiest woman in the world! Only I feel my happiness differently from you. It is a more serious thing to me. It's my nature, I suppose. I've been trying all my life to let people know how happy I was, and even when in my most melancholy spells I found a certain quiet peace, I had to appear gay to keep others from thinking I was miserable. It's a trick of mine, to hide my real feelings, I suppose. We're all acting, anyhow, don't you think so?"
"No, I'm not," Talbot smiled down at her gayly. "I honestly believe I am as nearly frank as people get. I never could hide my emotions, and I've never yet learned to control my anger."
"How dreadfully you frighten me, Morgan." Natalia frowned in assumed fear. "Suppose you should get angry with me—would you treat me very badly? Would you whip me?" She laughed outright. "Dicey says there used to be an old farmer here who whipped his wife every Saturday night because he said it was the only way a man could make a woman respect him. And she also says that when the man was sent to jail for stealing his neighbour's cow, that his wife would go with him. Such a case makes one ponder, doesn't it, Morgan, as to which is the right way to hold another's love?"
"I'll never treat you that way, Natalia, because," and he hesitated, half-serious, "I'm almost afraid of you at times—when your eyes grow very black and the colour fades out of your face. I don't know whether it is anger, or what. It makes you wonderfully beautiful, though."
"I know—it is when I'm very intense. It's when my Spanish blood is aroused. Sometimes I have felt that I was acting without my own volition—that some one else, a new nature within me, was compelling me on to something I was helpless to combat. I will tell you about it some day, but not this morning. I've determined to let nothing mar our happiness to-day. But I have a request to make," she ended tentatively.
"Anything in the world—you have only to name it," Morgan replied promptly, swinging her hand in his, to and fro, like a happy schoolboy.
"Do you know, sir," Natalia began, with mincing manner and chiding voice, "that you spent all of yesterday afternoon and the one before, away from me—and worst of all—with Mr. Jervais!"
Morgan's face showed his evident surprise.
"You don't mean to tell me, Natalia, that you objected to that! Certainly you didn't want me to stay here all the time listening to you women folks discuss trousseaux and wedding cakes!"
Natalia smiled at him silently.
"That must be a very attractive place—that Mansion House," she commented archly.
"The tavern! What do you know about it?"
"Uncle Felix told me how popular you were there—how many friends you had made already. It doesn't take a very lively imagination to picture the poker games there, for I've heard of them ever since I could remember. There were great old days, then, and still are, I fancy, if you men would only tell about it. But, seriously, Morgan, don't go this afternoon. Promise me."
Morgan's face had clouded as she ended, and slipping his arm around her he led her towards the bench on the brow of the hill.
"Listen, Natalia," he said, when they had sat down. "Something happened yesterday which I did not want you to know. Now, I see I had best tell you. Lemuel Jervais and I got into a pretty reckless game of poker all the afternoon. Towards the end I think he must have reached the limit of his ready resources, for when every one had withdrawn and he and I were sticking it out, he said he was going to pay me in slaves, if he lost. You know my feelings in regard to slavery. So when it came to that, I threw down my hand and said I was not gambling for human beings!" Morgan dropped his hands between his knees and stared before him in silence. "It was all rather unfortunate, but I suppose couldn't be helped," he continued. "What makes it a little embarrassing to me is that Jervais insisted that I should go back again to-day and finish the game."
"But you didn't agree to it, did you?" Natalia exclaimed.
"What else could I do?" Morgan answered rather gloomily. "He is my host and yours, and would take offence—particularly as I have been the winner all along. Besides, it wouldn't do not to go for a little while. Do you know what I've decided to do?" he added, bright again. "I'm going to let Jervais win rather heavily, and then suggest that we come back here."
Natalia met his brightness only half-way.
"I suppose you will have to do it, but you will come back soon?"
"You have my word for it."
"Well, then, I suppose I'll have to be contented." Natalia smiled again. "But after to-day, when everybody has gone away, and Brother Joel and Millicent are on their way to New Orleans, and we shall be here all alone—you must not let a single thing, no matter how great, take you away from me. Just you and I—all alone! I've planned each day—almost every moment!"
They strolled a little way down the hill, to where the ground rolled precipitately to the river. The opposite shore was still grey and misty with the retreating night, and over the stretch of wilderness hung a blue veil of mystery.
"The Indians call it 'The Land of the Setting Sun,'" Natalia said, looking out before her. "Poor wild creatures! It seems the only land left them now. To me it always seemed the future. One thinks one sees it, yet it is all vague and unknown."
"That is not the way with our future, though," Morgan replied, gathering Natalia in his arms. "Ours is neither vague nor unknown. This day is a symbol of what it is to be. It will be only happiness," he kissed her, "happiness—and happiness again!"
The day deepened in beauty as the hours passed, and all the while elaborate decorations were being arranged throughout the house. Many friends came, bringing wagon loads of trailing vines and ferns and wild hydrangeas. Festoons of Southern smilax were twined about the columns and draped from one to the other, so that the old house looked gay and youthful, as it had many years ago; and along the veranda, tables were placed on which stood tall crystal globes protecting the candles which were to illumine the place at nightfall; and along the balustrade of the upper balcony was a row of candles which encircled the house, and would make it a blaze of glory.
In the grove hundreds of transparences were hung high among the thick foliage, vying with the white blossoms in doing honour to the occasion; two big piles of brush were placed far out on the road beyond the gate, which were to be set ablaze in the evening and light the late arrivals on their way.
Within, the large salon was heavy with the odour of gardenias. The walls were covered with the fragrant blossoms and from the corners of the ceiling to where the bronze chandelier swung with its hundred and fifty candles, garlands of ivy were draped. Across the hall, the dining-room floor was waxed until Zebediah pronounced it too slippery for any one to stand upon, much less attempt dancing. Even the library was thrown open, a thing never done before in entertaining, and all the wedding presents displayed there—presents that brought smiles and tears to Natalia, for in many of these gifts she realized that the friends of her parents were parting with their heirlooms to do her honour. There were priceless pieces of Sevres china; a huge punch bowl of Bohemian glass, the sides cut in broad panels which showed layers of rose and cream; candlesticks in bronze and brass and silver; many pieces of Sheffield plate and silver that had come to America with its early settlers; and, causing more trouble and amusement than all the other presents, a magnificent peacock sent by old Mrs. Buckingham, which thought its special duty was to make the air ring with hideous cries.
In the late afternoon Natalia went down the stairs on the back veranda to inspect the last touches that Mrs. Jervais and Mrs. Houston were giving the supper table. The veranda had been enclosed the whole length in osnaburgs, and a long table extended from one end to the other, literally groaning under the weight of appetizing delicacies.
Already the front of the house was gay with the people who had driven many miles to the wedding, and whose carriages and wagons were encamped without the gates awaiting the return to them in the early morning; for it was the custom of those days to spend the entire night in jollification, the fiddlers never resting their bows until the sunlight clashed with candle-light.
"Oh, Natalia, look at those nougat pyramids! Aren't they dreams!" Millicent cried. "I know they must be six feet high."
"They were made in New Orleans," commented Mrs. Jervais, proudly, following the two girls as they moved down the table inspecting everything.
"Won't it be a pity to break them? But of course every one will want a souvenir to take home. Natalia, I think you ought to keep one whole in memory of the day. And there's the wedding cake! In five terraces! Isn't it beautiful? Where in the world did you get it, Mrs. Houston?"
Mrs. Houston's eyes lit up with enthusiasm.
"I made every bit of it myself. It took the whites of fifty eggs!"
"What on earth did you do with the yelks?" exclaimed Millicent, dumbfounded.
"Is there nothing I can do?" Natalia said, putting her arms about the old lady, and kissing her cheek. "How good you all are to me! I seem to grow happier every moment—"
The clang of the door-bell broke on her unfinished words, and in the next moment a servant had entered with a note. Natalia took it from the salver, and glanced at the address, drawing her brows together, as if in recollection. The others waited silently impatient.
"Do open it, Natalia," Millicent cried. "I know it's another wedding present. Won't you read it aloud?"
Natalia still held the note in her hand, thoughtfully regarding it.
"I'm trying to remember whose writing it is. It's very familiar. Oh, I know now! It's Sargent Everett's."
She tore open the envelope, letting it fall to the floor as she hurriedly read the note. When she looked up again, the tears were streaming down her face.
"He has sent me the most precious wedding present in the world," she cried with a sob in her voice. "He has given Mammy back to me!"
She ran through the dining-room, and down the full length of the hall, and out on to the front porch, throwing herself into the old slave's arms.
"He has given you to me, Mammy! He has given you to me! You're mine—you dear old Mammy Dicey! Come on upstairs to my room, and tell me all about it. Mammy, I'm getting everything in the world to-day. Isn't it wonderful? And now you've come back to me!"
She pulled the old woman up the steps beside her, and into the big room where they had spent many hours together.
It was about dusk, and the room was in the quiet gloom of twilight. Natalia locked the door after they had entered, and pushing a big arm chair close beside the bed, she led Dicey who stood in the centre of the room, dazed into forgetfulness by the familiar objects about her, to it, and made her sit down while she threw herself on the bed and drew the old slave's hands into both her own.
"It's like old times, isn't it, Mammy? Just exactly like it used to be—you there beside me when I went to sleep. Oh, Mammy, I'm so happy! I want to cry just a little like I used to, and you hold my hand and pat it and sing to me,—very soft and low, ah! now!"
And with the light gently fading from behind the bowed blinds, and the room sinking into darkness, the old slave chanted softly, with the tears streaming down her furrowed cheeks:
"Whar, oh, whar am de Hebrew chillun, Whar, oh, whar am de Hebrew chillun, Whar, oh, whar am de Hebrew chillun, Way ober in de promis' lan'."