Suddenly a rap sounded on the door; the sanctuary of the two reunited women was broken.
"Natalia! Natalia! All the guests are arriving," Millicent called in an excited voice. "Have you begun to dress? Do let me in! It's scandalous for them to be so late!"
Natalia sprang from the bed and hurried to the door.
"Is it really late?" she exclaimed, as Millicent burst into the room. "I hadn't an idea time was flying so. Mammy and I had gone back years and years, and forgotten everything. Is Morgan ready?"
"Ready! I should think not!" Millicent answered. "Do you know, neither he nor Joel nor Mr. Jervais have come back yet; and they have been gone for hours. Mrs. Houston sent the Judge in an hour ago to bring them back. It's perfectly dreadful for them to behave like this, and I intend to tell them so as soon as they come!"
Natalia listened calmly, then turned away to hide the anxiety in her eyes.
"They will be here before we know it," she answered, after a little while, forcing a smile to her lips.
"I suppose they became interested in some discussion and forgot all about the time. Just like men! But do hurry, Millicent, and come back as soon as you can to help me dress. Now, Mammy," she turned back to Dicey, stopping a moment to survey herself in the cheval glass. "Are you going to help make me very beautiful to-night? I believe I'll wear my hair like I used to. It's dreadfully unfashionable now, but I believe it's becoming."
She sat down in the chair, and unloosening her hair, let it fall in waves about her. Clasping her hands tight in her lap, she looked steadily before her the anxiety creeping back into her eyes. All the while Dicey watched her closely. In the old woman's eyes the strange look had come again. It was burning brilliantly now.
"I wish he had come sooner. I wish—" Natalia lifted her head resolutely—"I mean platted in a crown, Mammy, like you did it when I was a little girl. Have you forgotten how?"
"No—I hain't fergit."
"Then you arrange it for me, and I'll wear the daisies in it that you brought me. Won't that be fetching? I'll sit very still, Mammy, while you fix it. Do you remember," she laughed plaintively, "how I used to wriggle and fidget when you would do it that way?"
Dicey did not move toward her. Shaking her head firmly she only stared.
"I won't fix hit dat way fer yer," she suddenly burst out. "I won't! I won't!"
"Why, Mammy, don't you think it's becoming?"
"I won't fix hit dat way 'cause he allus said he lak hit dat way."
Natalia looked at her bewildered.
"But Morgan never saw me wear it that way. How could he know?"
"I don' mean him. I means Marse Sargent."
Natalia broke into a merry laugh and drew the old woman's face down to her own.
"You dear—old—foolish—Mammy! Of course I didn't know you were talking about Sargent Everett. Besides—what difference does he make now? I believe you were teasing me about him, anyhow. If he thought so much of me he would have come to my wedding."
Dicey shook her head unconvinced.
"Is dat all de larnin' yer done pick up in yer trabbelin', honey? Hit's 'cause he lubs yer so dat he cyant b'ar seein' yer marryin' anoder man. Dat's hit, honey-chile."
Natalia narrowed her eyes a moment; then smiled, a little wistfully.
"You are entirely too wise, Mammy. Sometimes I almost fear you. You are trying to make me unhappy on my wedding night, by telling me my happiness is breaking another's heart. You know it isn't really so—now is it, Mammy?"
Dicey's face was turned away from Natalia as she moved about the room, pulling down the shades and lighting the candles. Twice she opened her lips to speak, then closed them tight and went on. Suddenly she stopped and went back to Natalia.
"Yer is breakin' his heart—yer is—yer is. Yer tole him yer wuz gwine come back ter him an' yer ought ter done hit. Yer know yer ought to—cause yer done pledge yerself ter him." Her face was close to Natalia's as she whispered the words, and involuntarily the girl drew back, startled. The intensity of the old woman's eyes was ominous. The next moment Natalia rose from her chair and faced her.
"Mammy, you are trying your best to make me miserable. I never thought it of you. You have lost all your love for me for your new master. Because you love him so, you think every one must—but I do not—do you hear, Mammy? I don't love him one bit any more; he doesn't love me either. It's all your imagination! And if you don't stop talking about him, I'm going to send you right back to him!"
Natalia's voice was calm, but her eyes flashed into the old woman's, speaking her anger. In another moment Dicey was on her knees with her arms about her.
"Fergive me! honey-chile, I didn' mean nothin'!" she cried. "I lubs yer more'n ennybody in de worl', but I cyant help er feelin' kinder perturbed 'bout pore Marse. Yer hain't gwine sen' me erway, will yer? Say yer won', honey, 'cause he'll be powerful mad wid me ef he knows I'se done made yer mad. I'll do yer ha'r anyway yer says ef yer'll only say yer hain't gwine sen' me erway."
Natalia's anger went as it had come. The next moment she was seated before the mirror, with Dicey brushing and platting her hair.
"We always did quarrel, Mammy," she laughed happily again. "I suppose it proves our love, don't you? But it does make me so jealous to find you loving somebody more than you do me," she added, reflectively. "It really is odd how he makes people love him," glancing at Dicey's enigmatic face reflected in the mirror. "I'm talking about your master, Mammy. I see now that I have lost your love entirely. But if he does for others as he has done for me, I do not wonder at it," she sighed. "Who else would have thought of sending you to me for a wedding present?"
"Eberybody do lub him," Dicey rejoined, her eyes once more sparkling with her enthusiasm of the subject. "An' de young ladies—yer ought ter see how dey turns out in dere fine kerridges, all rigged up in finery and foolishness, when he's gwine ter speak. Dey all jes' makes sheep eyes at him all de time, an' he neber takes no notice ob none ob dem."
"That's your way of seeing him, Mammy. I'll wager he's in love with half a dozen girls this very minute. Now begin putting in the daisies, please. Yes, three at a time. Honestly, now, Mammy, crossing your heart and body, you don't think he is as handsome as Morgan, do you?"
"I neber did lak bloo eyes," Dicey answered firmly. "'Specially when dey is light bloo."
"But his are not light blue. They are very dark and beautiful. Wait until you see him close. Now, my wedding dress, Mammy. Isn't it a dream?" Natalia went to the sofa where the wedding finery was displayed. "I brought it all the way from Paris last year. You see, Mammy, it has three skirts."
"Lawdy 'bove us!" cried Dicey, touching the gown gingerly. "Hit's got sho' nuff leabes on hit, hain't hit?"
"Yes, they are arbour-vitae leaves. Millicent has been sewing them on, all day. The design represents the walls of Troy. You know all about that, don't you, Mammy?" she laughed merrily. "You see there is a border on each flounce, and on the waist, too. I saw the Princess Amèlie wear one just like it. Now call Millicent, Mammy, for she will have to help me get into it. And Aunt Maria, too, and ask Mrs. Jervais to bring the jewel box."
Left alone, Natalia peered through the closed blinds into the yard below. From the lights and moving figures, she turned her eyes towards the heavens. There, too, the stars shone in a gay brilliance.
"My wedding night!" She whispered happily. "My wedding night!" She turned away from the window with a strange new excitement rushing over her. Her eyes grew deep black, glowing with intensity. Her face became flushed with a gorgeous colour.
Millicent burst into the room, completely arrayed. "How do I look, Natalia? Do you like the ribbon here, or there? It's so dreadfully hard to decide. Would you believe it—those hateful men have not come yet! I don't believe this ribbon is the right colour, after all. Do you suppose anything has happened to them?"
Natalia looked quickly towards the clock.
"It's only half after seven. The ceremony is at eight," she said slowly—then eagerly, "Perhaps they have come and you didn't know it."
"No, I have just come from Morgan's room, and he is not there. But you must dress, Natalia," Millicent urged, picking up the wedding gown. "Here—get into this, while I help you. Aren't you glad the leaves look fresh? They are as green as if they had just been picked. Can't you see the girls wondering if they are real? And the wedding bouquet—it's wonderful! Mrs. Houston has just been telling me how it was made. She says she took a stick and covered it with green silk, then she laid sprays of cedar, fan shape, all over that, then in the centre she sewed the cape jessamines, all real close together. It's the most beautiful bouquet I ever saw!" Millicent ended breathlessly.
Natalia made no comment. She stood silently docile while the gown was fastened.
"It is very strange that he should do this way," she murmured to herself, "and he promised me— Perhaps their carriage broke down on the way out!" she exclaimed. "It must be something like that!"
Mrs. Jervais entered the room, her face beaming her approval upon Natalia. In her hand she carried a large, elaborately carved sandal wood box.
"Do you know where they are? Have you heard from them?" Natalia cried, rushing towards her.
Mrs. Jervais answered her with her calm smile.
"Don't worry, clear, they will be here in plenty of time. Nothing has happened, I'm sure. If you knew Lemuel as I do, you'd know that he had taken them all to the Mansion House, where he always gets involved in those eternal political discussions. You know there is much talk now of a war with the Cherokees—so they are trying to settle it, I know. But here are the jewels, Natalia. They have not been opened since your mother's death."
Natalia took the box in her arms, pressing it to her affectionately.
"I have never seen them," she said, taking a key that Judge Houston had brought her that day, and slipping it into the lock. "I always said I would never wear them until I was married." She placed the box on a chair and knelt down before it. "I have always thought," she began, very softly, "that there are a few things that one should wear very seldom—some things only once. I am never going to wear this dress again." She laid her hand softly into the folds of the white tarletan. "I'm going to put it away in the cedar chest after to-night—way up in the attic—and only take it out on my anniversaries, to dream over."
She turned the key in the lock and lifted the lid. Lying on a white velvet lining, grown yellow with age, was a magnificent collection of jewels. There was a necklace formed of oblong pearl medallions, the centre of each filled by a large sapphire; there were ear-rings of the same design which would hang to the wearer's shoulder; four bracelets completed the set. There were several quaint brooches of onyx and pearls and diamonds, and some heavy pieces of white coral, elaborately carved.
Mrs. Houston had entered while Natalia was gazing into the case, and stood just behind her, one hand resting on her shoulder.
"You saw her wear them, Aunt Maria," Natalia murmured, finally. "Then place them on me just as she would have liked them to be."
Leading her up to the cheval glass, the old lady clasped the necklace about her throat, slipped the bracelets far up her arms, and adjusted the ear-rings to her minute satisfaction; leaving for the last the veil, which she pinned to Natalia's blue-black hair with a broad band of sapphires, her own present to the bride, and one that had done duty a century before, along the banks of the James River.
"Now you are wonderfully beautiful, Natalia," she said, giving a last touch and stepping away to gain a better view of the arrangement. "Your eyes have caught the glow of the sapphires. Look at her, Millicent! Isn't she lovely?"
Any one who now sees the portrait of her, painted by Weygant, will realize how beautiful she must have been that night; for the artist seems to have caught, with a remarkable inspiration, the gorgeous depths of her eyes, and even in the canvas one sees the faint, velvety shadows that gradually faded away from her heavy black lashes. This, probably, was what accentuated their brilliancy and gave the effect of an inner, glowing light. As she faced the others and felt their admiration, the excitement rushed over her again, and for a moment she was dazzling.
Dicey was the first to turn from her and gaze towards the window.
"Do you see them coming, Mammy?" Natalia asked, still before the mirror.
"No, ma'am, dey's all done quit comin'," came Dicey's low murmur.
Natalia turned swiftly towards Mrs. Houston, searching her face for some sign of anxiety. She found none.
"You all go downstairs and entertain the people," she said at last. "Mammy will stay here with me until Morgan comes."
"I do hope they will come soon," Millicent said, kissing Natalia for the tenth time. "I'm terribly impatient and flustered, and I always get so red in the face when I am excited."
"It will not be long now," Mrs. Houston said cheerfully, "I sent Felix for them an hour ago, and you may be sure he will find them. I'll send you word, dear, as soon as I see them coming."
Left alone with Dicey, Natalia turned slowly back to the mirror and looked at herself a long time. The veil was still thrown back from her face, and in the soft glow of the candles, the reflection gained a vague, misty charm.
During the long silence the sound of fiddling floated up to the room. Surely he had come now! That was the reason for the music. As she listened, the music faded softly and finally stopped altogether. Still there was no sound of a carriage on the driveway. Finally she sank into a chair and looked at Dicey, who was peering intently through the shutters. Then she glanced at the clock. It was exactly eight—the marriage hour. The fiddling began again, and mingling with it, the sounds of laughter in the garden and the swishing of silks along the veranda.
She rose from the chair, walking about the room, while the clock ticked off the minutes relentlessly. In the stillness of the room her voice sounded harsh and unnatural.
"Mammy—do you see him coming?"
Dicey did not answer nor move from her position.
"Mammy—come here!"
The old slave held up her hand cautiously.
"Wait—I sees er kerridge."
Natalia laughed happily.
"How foolish I've been! I was actually getting nervous!"
"Dey is drivin' mighty slow—sh-h—dar's er man lyin' 'cross de back seat—sumthin's done happen."
Natalia rushed toward the window and threw the shutters wide apart. In the glow of the illuminations she saw the occupants of the carriage distinctly. Judge Houston and another man sat on the front seat; on the back seat, lying outstretched, was a limp figure, the face covered with a handkerchief.
She rushed to the door and out into the hall, pausing half-way down the steps when she saw the men carrying the helpless form into the parlour. She stood there, as if frozen lifeless, the crowded hall unseen, the curious glances of the guests unnoticed. Then, when the muffled stillness was broken by a shriek, she moved one step further. It was Mrs. Jervais' voice that had resounded through the crowded house.
It was then that Judge Houston came out of the parlour and closed the door after him. Signalling the crowd to fall back, he went towards the steps. Natalia had reached him now, her hands clinging to him in sudden trembling.
"Is it Morgan—in there?"
The old gentleman shook his head, and looking down into Natalia's pallid, quivering face framed by the wedding veil, he drew her close to him.
"No—it is Lemuel Jervais."
"And Morgan—where is he?"
Judge Houston did not reply at once. Putting his arm about Natalia, and motioning away the staring crowd, he led her down the hall to a deserted place on the back veranda, where the wedding supper was already on the table and the candles blazing.
"They had a difficulty over cards—Morgan and Jervais," the old gentleman spoke in a low voice. "When I got there Lemuel was—dead. If I could only have gotten there sooner!" he ended, his whole figure shaking with emotion.
Natalia leaned heavily against the wall.
"Where is Morgan?" she finally asked.
"There was only one place for him to go to—the jail. It seems to have been a very bitter fight,—the slavery question was at the back of it,—you know the type of Jervais' followers. I knew the jail was the only safe place for him—I was powerless to stem the crowd."
"Is he safe—now?"
"Yes."
Suddenly Natalia tore the veil from her head and threw it away from her.
"Will you take me to him, Uncle Felix—now—at once?"
The old gentleman drew back, startled by her vehemence.
"Not to-night, Natalia. It is no place for you."
For a second her eyes flashed into his.
"If he is in danger I want to face it with him! Will you go with me? Or shall I go alone?"