CHAPTER XVII.
THE NIGHT BEFORE THE WEDDING.
Apparently the Ellsworth ghost became disgusted with the prosaic means
adapted to secure its identification.
From that horror-haunted night it ceased to invade Dainty's chamber with
its grewsome cough and ghoulish presence.
It was true that in some of her occasional solitary moments, in some
quiet twilight hour, she had been startled by the sound of that hateful
cough, coming from apparently nowhere; but she fled at once in terror
from the spot, and forebore to mention it to her lover, who was
radiantly happy, deeming that the malicious ghost was exorcised forever.
The beautiful summer days flew past on wings of joy, bringing the
fateful first of August that was to witness Dainty's bridal, as well as
the twenty-sixth birthday of the handsome master of Ellsworth.
Everything was in readiness for the wedding when the last day of July
brought Mrs. Chase to her daughter's arms again, and Dainty's happiness
seemed complete.
Everything seemed to be going on so propitiously that Dainty cast her
dismal forebodings to the winds.
Surely nothing could part her from her lover now! The malice of her
enemies had fallen harmless to the ground.
Mrs. Ellsworth and her two favorite nieces were playing propriety with
perfect ease. Indeed, the former had persuaded Olive and Ela to act as
bridemaids, and provided them with elegant gowns of sheer white organdie
over rich white silk. Mrs. Chase had brought with her Dainty's pretty,
simple traveling gown and hat, and she had yielded to her lover's wish
that the marriage vows should be spoken in the same beautiful white
robes that had graced his mother at her wedding, twenty-eight years
before.
They had been folded away in linen and lavender many years--the lace
veil and satin gown--and the owner would never need them more, for she
was wearing the robe of righteousness in the great procession of angels
before the Great White Throne. While Love was yet in his babyhood she
had passed gently away to heaven like a lily fading on its slender stem.
Love cherished her memory as something holy, and his heart ached with
silent grief when, five years later, his father gave him a step-mother,
a handsome, stately woman, who had been uniformly kind to him until now,
when her imperious nature overstepped the mark in her anxiety to have
him marry Olive or Ela.
But thwarted in her will, the lady was bearing her disappointment with
what appeared to be graceful resignation, and she spared no efforts in
preparing for the grand wedding, that it might do honor to the proud
master of Ellsworth. A magnificent banquet was ready, and the floral
decorations of the mansion were superb. It was to be a morning wedding,
followed by a summer _fete_ on a magnificent scale, and that evening the
bride and groom would leave for a Northern tour, and thence to Europe.
Sweet, shy Dainty, so like a lovely, modest violet, gazed in wonder at
all the preparations for the magnificent wedding, scarcely able to
realize that it was to do honor to her, the simple girl with whom her
rich and noble lover had seen fit to choose to share his heart, and
name, and wealth. She said to herself that she was surely the happiest,
most fortunate girl in the whole world, and that her love story read
like some romantic fairy tale, with Lovelace Ellsworth as the grand
Prince Charming.
Oh, how proud and happy Mamma Chase was, too, in her daughter's good
fortune! The years seemed to fall from her like a cast-off garment, and
on her gentle face, Mrs. Ellsworth, who had wondered so where Dainty got
her radiant beauty, read the traces of what had once been rare
loveliness before time and sorrow had faded her flower-like bloom. Mrs.
Ellsworth could not help being courteous to the gentle lady who was her
half-brother's lonely widow, so that last day passed away busily and
happily, crowded with excitement, and that night the guest-chambers of
Ellsworth were full to overflowing with visitors who had been bidden
from a distance to their kinsman's wedding.
Until far into the moonlit summer night the halls and parlors of
Ellsworth echoed with music and laughter, for the gay young people
crowded together could scarcely be persuaded to retire even for "a
beauty sleep" to enhance their charms to-morrow.
But at length all went to their rooms, and the weary servants closed the
great house, darkened the lights, and everything sank into silence,
broken only now and then by the call of a night bird in the shrubbery,
or the whistle of a far-away locomotive. The full moon sailed high in
the deep blue heaven, brooding over the sleeping world in its mystery,
its beauty, its joy and sorrow.
Love and Dainty had gone along the corridors hand in hand like happy
children, pausing to say good-night before their own doors.
"Mamma will share my room to-night--we have so much to say to each other
this last night," Dainty said to her lover, with a fleeting blush like
the sunset glow.
They were quite alone, with no envious eyes peering in the dim night
light, and Love took his charming sweetheart in his arms and clasped and
kissed her many times in passionate love.
"'This last night!' how solemn it sounds!" he echoed, then laughed. "Oh,
my love, my love! what rapture to know that after to-night we never
shall be parted again!"
"Never, never!" she cried, joyfully, and clasped her white arms around
his neck, laying her soft cheek to his, whispering: "Oh, how glad I am
that you love me, that you chose me for your very own, life of your
life, heart of your heart! I thank God for His goodness to me, and I
will try always to deserve my great happiness."
Sweet, shy Dainty had never spoken to her lover with such ardor and
eloquence before, and his reply was such a shower of kisses that she
could hardly tear herself away to enter her own room, where her mother
waited, and said, laughingly:
"Darling, I thought you and Love were not going to say good-night till
the morning dawned!"