"...That in the world to come ye may have life everlasting.Amen."There was a moment's silence, then the group about the altar rail broke up.
"Come," said Aunt Wess', getting to her feet, "it's all over, Page.Come, and kiss your sister--Mrs.Jadwin."In the vestry room Laura stood for a moment, while one after another of the wedding party--even Mr.Cressler--kissed her.When Page's turn came, the two sisters held each other in a close embrace a long moment, but Laura's eyes were always dry.Of all present she was the least excited.
"Here's something," vociferated the ubiquitous clerk, pushing his way forward."It was on the table when we came out just now.The ***ton says a messenger boy brought it.It's for Mrs.Jadwin."He handed her a large box.Laura opened it.Inside was a great sheaf of Jacqueminot roses and a card, on which was written:
"May that same happiness which you have always inspired in the lives and memories of all who know you be with you always.
"Yrs.S.C."
The party, emerging from the church, hurried across the street to the Dearborns' home, where Laura and Jadwin were to get their valises and hand bags.Jadwin's carriage was already at the door.
They all assembled in the parlor, every one talking at once, while the servants, bare-headed, carried the baggage down to the carriage.
"Oh, wait--wait a minute, I'd forgotten something,"cried Laura.
"What is it? Here, I'll get it for you," cried Jadwin and Cressler as she started toward the door.But she waved them off, crying:
"No, no.It's nothing.You wouldn't know where to look."Alone she ran up the stairs, and gained the second story; then paused a moment on the landing to get her breath and to listen.The rooms near by were quiet, deserted.From below she could hear the voices of the others--their laughter and gaiety.She turned about, and went from room to room, looking long into each;first Aunt Wess's bedroom, then Page's, then the "front sitting-room," then, lastly, her own room.It was still in the disorder caused by that eventful morning;many of the ornaments--her own cherished knick-knacks--were gone, packed and shipped to her new home the day before.Her writing-desk and bureau were bare.On the backs of chairs, and across the footboard of the bed, were the odds and ends of dress she was never to wear again.
For a long time Laura stood looking silently at the empty room.Here she had lived the happiest period of her life; not an object there, however small, that was not hallowed by association.Now she was leaving it forever.Now the new life, the Untried, was to begin.
Forever the old days, the old life were gone.Girlhood was gone; the Laura Dearborn that only last night had pressed the pillows of that bed, where was she now?
Where was the little black-haired girl of Barrington?
And what was this new life to which she was going forth, under these leaden skies, under this warm mist of rain? The tears--at last--were in her eyes, and the sob in her throat, and she found herself, as she leaned an arm upon the lintel of the door, whispering:
"Good-by.Good-by.Good-by."
Then suddenly Laura, reckless of her wedding finery, forgetful of trivialities, crossed the room and knelt down at the side of the bed.Her head in her folded arms, she prayed--prayed in the little unstudied words of her childhood, prayed that God would take care of her and make her a good girl; prayed that she might be happy; prayed to God to help her in the new life, and that she should be a good and loyal wife.
And then as she knelt there, all at once she felt an arm, strong, heavy even, laid upon her.She raised her head and looked--for the first time--direct into her husband's eyes.
"I knew--" began Jadwin."I thought--Dear, Iunderstand, I understand."
He said no more than that.But suddenly Laura knew that he, Jadwin, her husband, did "understand," and she discovered, too, in that moment just what it meant to be completely, thoroughly understood--understood without chance of misapprehension, without shadow of doubt; understood to her heart's heart.And with the knowledge a new feeling was born within her.No woman, not her dearest friend; not even Page had ever seemed so close to her as did her husband now.How could she be unhappy henceforward? The future was already brightening.
Suddenly she threw both arms around his neck, and drawing his face down to her, kissed him again and again, and pressed her wet cheek to his--tear-stained like her own.
"It's going to be all right, dear," he said, as she stood from him, though still holding his hand."It's going to be all right.""Yes, yes, all right, all right," she assented."Inever seemed to realise it till this minute.From the first I must have loved you without knowing it.And I've been cold and hard to you, and now I'm sorry, sorry.You were wrong, remember that time in the library, when you said I was undemonstrative.I'm not.
I love you dearly, dearly, and never for once, for one little moment, am I ever going to allow you to forget it.
Suddenly, as Jadwin recalled the incident of which she spoke, an idea occurred to him.
"Oh, our bargain--remember? You didn't forget after all.""I did.I did," she cried."I did forget it.That's the very sweetest thing about it."
