Chapter IX: The First Wedding

“Do you love him, Arley?”

“Why, my darling Lily of Mordaunt! how can you ask such a question? Do you suppose I should have accepted him if I had not?”

“I hope not--I trust not; yet I--it is very unexpected to me--it seems very strange,” sighed the gentle Elaine, a perplexed expression clouding her lovely face.

She had been perfectly amazed when Philip Paxton made known the fact of his engagement to Arley, and as soon as she could catch her by herself, she assailed her with the above question, while her heart was filled with a strange foreboding on her account.

She had grown to feel a deep and abiding love for the bright and interesting girl, who, though nearly two years older than herself, appeared to be that much younger; and Arley seemed to reciprocate this affection, notwithstanding that until very recently they had been utter strangers to each other.

One day she impulsively threw her arms around Lady Elaine’s neck, and exclaimed:

“How I wish you were my sister! You have no idea how I have always longed for a sister, and if the fates had only given you to me I should be supremely happy.”

“Why, how singular! I have often wished the same thing since I became acquainted with you,” returned the Lily of Mordaunt, with a look of surprise.

“Perhaps the fact that we are both orphans has caused it,” she added, after a moment; “but I must confess, Arley, that I have never seen any one who has won her way so securely into my heart as you have done.”

“That ought to make me very happy, and it does, dear,” Arley returned, kissing her with tears in her eyes.

“I should have had a sister if she had lived,” Lady Elaine resumed, “and she would have been just about your age, too. It has been a source of great sorrow to me that she could not have been spared.”

“How old was she when she died?” Arley asked.

“A mere baby, not two years old, and I never saw her, because she died before I was born; but I was never weary of hearing mamma talk about her. She was entirely different from me, too, resembling mamma, who had dark hair and eyes, while I am a thorough Mordaunt in form, and feature, and complexion.”

“What a strange world this is!” Arley remarked, reflectively; “some people have so many to love them and others so few. But, dear Elaine, I am happy to have won your affection, and I hope that this friendship, which amounts almost to sisterhood, will last throughout our whole life.”

“I know of nothing that would cause me greater pain than to have it broken,” Lady Elaine said, with a little sigh of apprehension, as she thought of Philip, and wondered how this marriage with Arley would affect it in the future.

“Let us put a seal upon it,” she added, eagerly, after a moment; “let us exchange rings, Arley. You have a queer twisted ring on your third finger that I have admired ever since I first saw it; let me have it, and I will give you this in return,” and she drew off a lovely emerald surrounded by tiny pearls as she spoke.

“No, indeed, Elaine; that would not be a fair exchange at all,” Arley opposed. “That is a very costly ring, while mine, though exceedingly odd, is a simple affair, which I bought as a guard to this diamond that grandpa gave me two years ago.”

“Never mind; I want it,” persisted Lady Elaine, “and I want you to have this; so, if there are no precious associations connected with it, put it here on this finger, and let me put mine upon yours.”

She held out her slender hand as she ceased speaking, and Arley obediently slipped the twisted ring upon the third finger.

Then taking Arley’s hand, she put the emerald above the diamond.

“With this ring I wed thee, dear,” she said, with a fond smile, but with a little tremulousness in her tones; “so remember that you are my especial friend for all time, in sickness or in health, for better or for worse, it will be all the same--be sure that you never forget it, Arley.”

Arley Wentworth kissed her with trembling lips.

“You would compel any one to love you almost against their will,” she said, “but I certainly never shall forget.”

* * * * *

The next two weeks passed so pleasantly and harmoniously, the three pairs of lovers were so devoted and apparently so happy in each other, that an observer would undoubtedly have augured a life of uninterrupted bliss for them all.

At the end of that time Philip Paxton said he must return to London, for his business required his attention, but at Wil’s request he promised to run down to Hazelmere every Saturday and spend the Sabbath as long as Arley should remain a guest there.

Annie Hamilton would not consent to spare her friend until after the wedding, which was to occur now in about a month.

The four weeks seemed actually to melt away, and were gone almost before they realized it, and the important day dawned bright and fair.

The bride was, of course, lovely in white satin, with the usual accompaniments--the mistlike veil and pure fragrant orange-blossoms; while the two bridesmaids--Lady Elaine, in her rich, cream-white silk, garnished with wreaths of forget-me-nots and pearls, and Arley, in pale pink, with great Marechal Neil roses drooping gracefully here and there amid folds of frostlike lace--were almost, if not quite, as attractive as the gentle bride herself.

Wil Hamilton and Philip Paxton were, of course, the “best men,” and both made a fine, manly appearance.

The wedding breakfast was pronounced “elegant,” and everything passed off in the smoothest and most approved manner.

The gifts were numerous and costly, and, altogether, pretty Annie Hamilton seemed to begin life with every prospect of future happiness and prosperity.

Then came the farewells and confusion of departure, and the happy pair left Hazelmere for a tour of a month, after which they were to take up their residence in their own home, which was not far from Sir Anthony’s estate.

Three days later Arley bade her friends “good-by” and returned to London, where she was to make immediate preparations for her own marriage, since Philip Paxton insisted that there was no reason why it should be delayed, and had fixed the event for the 24th of October.

Lady Elaine promised to go up to London to spend the last fortnight with her, and all the Hamiltons were to be present at the very quiet wedding.