Dull inertness now hangs
its lifeless festoons over the whole, from the vaulted hall to the
iron railing enclosing the whole.
The day for consummating the nuptial ceremony has arrived; many
years have passed since the old mansion witnessed such a scene. The
gay, wealthy, and intelligent of the little fashionable world will
be here. The spell of loneliness in which the old walls have so long
slept will be broken. Sparkling jewels, bland smiles, the rich
decorations of former years, are to again enhance the scene.
Exhausted nature is to shake off its monotony, to be enlivened with
the happiness of a seemingly happy assemblage. A lovely bride is to
be showered with smiles, congratulations, tokens of love. Southern
gallantry will doff its cares, put on its smiling face. Whatever may
smoulder beneath, pleasure and gaiety will adorn the surface.
Franconia sits in her spacious chamber. She is arrayed in flowing
n‚glig‚; a pensive smile invades her countenance; she supports her
head on her left hand, the jewels on her tiny fingers sparkling
though her hair. Everything round her bears evidence of comfort and
luxury; the gentle breeze, as it sweeps through the window to fan
her blushing cheek, is impregnated with sweetest odours. She
contemplates the meeting of him who is to be the partner of her
life; can she reconcile it? Nay, there is something forcing itself
against her will. Her bridesmaids,--young, gay, and
accomplished,--gather around her. The fierce conflict raging in her
bosom discloses itself; the attempt to cheer her up, under the
impression that it arises from want of vigour to buoy up her
sensitive system, fails.
Pages:
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253