Oh, John, we have our lives before us yet!"
The captain and Mr. Mason had already signaled the steamer, and before
very long the wreck was quite abandoned, and those whom it had carried
were on their northward way again.
It was a singular wedding that I saw one day about two months after
the wreck of the Beachbird. I was going by the church of St. Saviour,
and being of an inquiring mind in the matter of weddings, I went in.
There were two brides there: the husband of the first, the fair one,
was just turning away with her. So calm, so pure, so peaceful, so
content, were the faces of that new husband and wife, that I could
long have looked upon them, as on some picture of strong spirits in
the presence of God, had not the beauty of the second bride arrested
me. But that was a beauty one hardly sees twice in a lifetime--so
perfect in outline, under snowy veils and blossoms, the dark eyes so
softly, dewily dark, the white brow whiter for its tendril-like rings
of raven hair; and where had I ever seen groom so stately, so lofty,
so proud? But what did the pantomime mean? a stranger might well have
asked. Was that the man's natural demeanor? or had he brought his mind
to the task of taking her by an effort that had destroyed every
sentiment of his soul but scorn? And for her? Had the rose forsaken
her cheek and the smile her lip because she looked on life as on a
desert? Was that utter sadness and dejection a thing that should one
day fade away and leave a sparkle of hope behind it? Or was it the
scar of one who had played with fire, who had not the strength to
release a pledge, and was marrying a man who she knew loathed her and
her beauty together?
HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD.
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