"Now, child," she said gaily, "don't cry, or Cornelius, whom I hear coming down after you, will think I have been scolding my future sister- in-law."
"And would you not have the right to do so?" I asked, kissing her with mingled tenderness and reverence.
As she returned the embrace, Cornelius entered, and from the threshold of the door, looked at us with a delighted smile.
CHAPTER XIX.
How Mrs. Langton explained her conduct towards me, is more than I know; but it cannot have been to the dissatisfaction of Edward Thornton; for within two or three weeks they were married. They went to Italy on a matrimonial tour, and there they have resided ever since, leaving Mrs.
Brand in happy and undisturbed possession of Poplar Lodge.
They thought not of us, and we thought not of them, nor of mortal creature, save Kate. The present effaced the past, and absorbed the future. Familiar affection may not have the romance and mystery of the passion which has given one soul and one heart to beings hitherto strangers; but it has a deeper tenderness and far more sacred purity.
Love now sat with us at board and hearth; something unknown lingered at twilight-time in the shadow of the room, and morn and eve a charmed presence haunted every garden-path and bower.
Kate allowed us to dream away a few days, then suddenly startled us one evening, by saying quietly:
"Cornelius, when do you mean to write to Mr. Thornton?"
Cornelius started, and turned a little pale; my work dropped from my hands, and I sank back on my chair. Upon which he looked distracted, and seemed ready to quarrel with Kate for having started such an unwelcome subject.
"Nonsense!" she said gaily, "don't you see it is all right."
We looked at her, she smiled kindly.
"You have written to him?" anxiously observed Cornelius.
"I have seen him this very day. You need not open your eyes. What are railroads and express trains for? Why should I not go via Thornton House, and give a look to Rock Cottage; for I trust you do not mean to follow the foolish cockney fashion of associating your honeymoon with hotels and long bills. I shall never forget the impression I received, when Mr.
Foster said to his wife with whom he ran away: 'Don't you remember, dear, how they cheated us at that Hotel des Etrangers?' 'Yes, dear,' she replied, 'but you know they were twice as bad at the H?tel d'Angleterre.'
Poor things, it was ten years ago, but they had not forgotten it yet."
"Kate," interrupted Cornelius, "what about Mr. Thornton."
"Why nothing save that he seemed inclined to be merry, and said if he had reflected there was a woman in the case, he could have foretold at once what would become of the secret. Don't you see, you foolish fellow, that he only meant this as a bit of humiliation and punishment for you. But that if he did not want you to marry Daisy, he would not have allowed her to be here. For my part I like him, and did not find him so very grim. He showed me his books, instruments, and when I left, hoped he should see me again."
"That is more than he ever did for any one," I said astonished; "Kate, you have made a conquest."
She looked handsome enough for it, and so Cornelius told her. She laughed at us, and bade us mind our own business. More she did not say then, but it came out a few days later that Mr. Thornton had told her the sooner Cornelius and I were married, the better he would be pleased. As this was precisely the feeling of Cornelius and Kate, I yielded.
We were married very quietly one sunny summer morning; then we bade Kate adieu for a fortnight, which we were to spend in Rock Cottage. It was her darling wish that we should go there, and we gratified her.
I remember well how strangely I felt when we reached my old home, now ours. It was not a year since I had left it, but it seemed ages.
Everywhere we found touching tokens of the recent presence of Kate, and of her thoughtful tenderness. The sun was setting; we watched it from the beach beneath the pine trees, and never--so at least it seemed to me, and it cannot have been a fancy of mine, for Cornelius said so too--never had the sun set more gloriously, or the sea looked more beautiful than on this the eve of our marriage day.
As in the visions of olden prophets, the cloudless heavens before us seemed to open, revealing depths of blazing light with long golden rays that, as they departed from the sun, grew paler until they faded into the deep evening blue. From the cliff whence we looked down, we saw the heavy billows of the sea rolling away towards the far horizon, and touched with a changing light that seemed both alive and burning.
The glowing heavens were still; the voice of the ocean was murmuring and low; the land breeze was silent, and thus, looking at the two vast solitudes of sea and sky, we forgot earth beneath and behind us, as we sometimes forget life in the contemplation of eternity. I do not think I ever felt existence less than I did then, though so near to him whom I yet loved with every faculty of my being. But there is in true happiness something sublime that raises the soul far beyond mortality.
If I felt anything in that hour, it was that the glorious ideal world which lay before us was not more lovely or more ideal than the new world which I now entered; and where in this life and the next, I hoped to dwell for ever with Cornelius. For to those who love purely, love is its own world, its own solitude, its own new created Eden, green and pleasant where they abide, a new born Adam and Eve, without the temptation and the fall, their hearts filled with tenderness, their souls overflowing with adoration.
I know at least that sitting thus by Cornelius, my hand in his, my eyes like his watching that broad, tranquil sun slowly going down to rest, I had never felt more deeply religious, more conscious of God in my heart.
As the bright disk dipped in the long line of the cool looking sea, then sank rapidly, and at length vanished beneath the deep wave; as dark clouds advanced across the sky, and the beautiful vision was lost in the purple shadows of coming night, I felt that the earthly sun might set, but that within me dwelt the peace and loveliness of an eternal dawn.
When the chill sea breeze began to sweep down the coast, Cornelius made me rise. Through the green garden we walked back to the house. He stopped before the stone steps and said:
"It was here I found you lying eight years ago: do you remember, Daisy?"
"Yes, Cornelius, I was very wretched, very lonely when you came and sat down by me, took me in your arms, kissed me and consoled me."
"God bless you for having remembered it so long!"
"As if it were likely I should forget it! Cornelius, I do not think we have ever sat on those stone steps since that day; let us do so now, and talk of all that has happened since then."
We did so. It was the pure twilight hour, when earth and all she bears lie dark and sleeping beneath a vast clear sky, to which light seems to have retreated. For awhile we talked, but of its own accord speech soon sunk into silence. What we said I do not remember now; but I still remember how solemnly beautiful was that eve; how the calm moon rose behind the house and looked down at us from her lonely place above; how, as the sky darkened, it grew thick with stars; how the pine-trees bowed to the sea-breeze at the end of the garden; how the waves broke at the foot of the cliff with a low dash, pleasant to the ears, and how as I sat by Cornelius I felt I was no longer a poor orphan child, but a happy and loved woman; no longer an object of pity and sorrow, but the proud companion of his life, and the chosen wife of his heart.
Home, realm of woman, pleasant shelter of her youth, gentle dominion granted to her life, I can say that thou hast yielded me some of the purest and deepest joys.
Before leaving Leigh, we saw my grandfather, who received us kindly, and bade Cornelius be fond of me. We have now been married three years. He declares he is more in love with me than on the first day, and I believe it. Kate says "nonsense!" but I know well enough she likes us to be so fond of one another. She, too, is very happy; for though she agrees with me that Cornelius has not yet obtained the position he deserves to have, yet, as he is universally acknowledged to be a genuine artist, as his pictures are prized, and sell well, she assures me that, spite of professional jealousy, he will one day be held second to none. I tell her I am sure of it. Cornelius laughs at us, and thinks the very same thing in his heart, for he works harder, and, though he will not confess it, is more eager and ambitious than ever.
We are, as we have always been, a good deal together; for we have no children to divert my attention. This is the only sore point with Kate.
It seems such a thing never happened before in the O'Reilly family, and she cannot make it out. But Cornelius and I do not mind; we are young, happy and leave the future to Providence.
It was last year, when Cornelius went to Spain--for he did go after all, but only for a few months, and I did not like to leave Kate, who seemed to me rather unwell--that I began this narrative. I had just received a letter from William Murray, who wrote to tell me that he was married and happy. My past life seemed to rise before me; so, to recal it, and divert my mind from dwelling too much on the absence of Cornelius, I one evening wrote a few pages, to which, day after day, more were added.
Oh my husband! my handsome, gifted husband! I love you much, very much, more than I shall ever tell you, and far more than I have dared to write even here; but if you should some day chance to see that which I never meant to be seen, know, at least, that to your wife, there never was a pleasanter task than thus to record the story of her long love for you, as child, girl, and woman.
THE END.