Page:The New Monthly Belle Assemblée (Volume 21, 1844).djvu/293

 apparently arrested by the glad laughter of the bridal guests, they paused abruptly, and stood quite still at some distance, waiting until they should have passed on. But Mrs. Stewart’s quick eye had already detected more than one familiar face amid that strangely silent group.

“What can they be doing?” said she in a hollow whisper.

“Hiding perhaps in sport, that we may be the first to reach the church,” replied her light-hearted companion.

“No-no; and they are carrying something between them, on what looks like a bier. Heaven send no harm may have happened to my poor boy!”

“Let us go and meet them,” said Helen, quickly, while she flew, rather than walked, by the side of her agitated companion; who already half repented her rashness. And then arose a wailing cry from the little party towards whom they were advancing.

“It is the bride—God help her!” But none attempted to stay her rapid progress; and in a few moments she stood, fixed and motionless, before the mangled and lifeless body of her lover I In his impatience to rejoin her, heedless of his promise, Willie Graham had attempted to cross the mountain during the last night’s tempest, and, dazzled by the lightning, he lost his footing and fell headlong into a deep ravine, where he was found in the morning, stunned and senseless, with one leg broken, and his features scarcely distinguishable for wounds. The shrieking bridesmaids buried their faces in their hands, and even Mrs. Stewart turned shudderingly away from the changed form she had once so loved to look upon; but Helen neither shrank back nor wept, and her clear, joyous tones were the first to break the fearful silence of that awe-stricken group.

“He lives!” said she. “Away some of you instantly for a doctor, and the rest bear him gently home. And oh, hush those wild cries, lest you should frighten or disturb him.”

“Poor child!-poor child!” exclaimed the widow, wringing her hands despairingly; “alas for thy vain hopes!”

But were they vain? The doctor, who was both a kind-hearted and clever man, smiled upon her as he shut himself in, alone with his patient and assistants; and Helen, kneeling down upon the threshold in her white, and now blood-stained garments, prayed fervently, trustingly, to Him in whose hands are the issues of life and death-that Heaven would spare him to her love, or in its mercy take her too! For such is ever the prayer of the young in their first great sorrow, and it is not until afterwards that we gain courage to say—”Father, it is thy will; I ask but strength and faith to submit me to its decrees!”

“Poor Willie!” said one among the crowd of kind and anxious neighbours who waited about the house for the doctor’s re-appearance; “it seems almost cruel to pray that he may recover, for Helen will never consent to marry one so changed and disfigured.”

“Ah, how proud she was of himl” exclaimed another, “and well she might be, for there was not a handsomer man in the whole village.”

“But that is past now,” said a third; “bright and beautiful as she is, even Mrs. Stewart herself can hardly blame her for breaking off the engagement-but hush! it is the doctor.” And all pressed eagerly round the worthy man, whose sanguine hopes of his patient’s ultimate recovery—which depended, however, so much upon perfect quiet-served to dismiss them all in silence to their various abodes.

“Now Helen, now my child,” said Mrs. Stewart, kindly, “let us go home.”

“This is my home,” replied the girl,” or would have been now, but for that fearful accident. At any rate, I will know no other henceforth.”

“Nay, it would have been different were you indeed his wife.”

“And am I not so in the sight of heaven?”

“Nay, come Helen, come with me. You are ill and excited.”

“It is in vain,” said her companion meekly, but firmly; “I will never leave him again in life!” And as she sat by the bedside, the cold fingers of her lover closed unconsciously upon hers, while a faint, ghastly smile stole over his face. Once again Mrs. Stewart shuddered to look upon it, while the devoted girl bent down and kissed those pale lips, whose salute she had hitherto half-playfully, half-bashfully repelled; but he was hers now, her very own, if it pleased heaven to spare him. Oh! the beauty in the countenance of one we love is most times of our own creating, and therefore bids defiance to all change, and even death itself.

After a time Mrs. Stewart forbore to urge her any longer, and returning alone to her cottage, sent from thence all she deemed necessary to the comfort of the young housekeeper and her patient. And it was thus that poor Helen took possession of her new home.

Weeks passed away, and Willie Graham still lay in the same unconscious state, while the cheek of his gentle and devoted nurse waxed paler and bedside. Mrs. Stewart came often to console, but paler, as she maintained her lonely vigil by his never, as of old, to reproach; while there was scarcely a person in the whole village but would have laid down their very lives for that brave-hearted young English girl, had she needed them—the consciences of not a few bitterly regretting all their former harsh and unjust suspicions, which they longed to atone for more substantially than in mere words; but Helen wanted nothing it was in their power to bestow, her only wish and prayer was that Willie might be spared.

Sometimes she would look around on all the arrangements for her comfort, made months before with such fond care, and forgetting what had intervened, fancy their bright dream of happiness realized at length; until a glance at that wan face, or a faint wail of agony dispersed the vision in a moment. And yet, even thus, it was something to be near to soothe, and watch over, and love him. What matter to her what the world might say of such devotion? He was her world! A wild and dangerous faith for the most part, but one for which even the widow herself could not find it