Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1886-01-17
A wEDDING-DAY.
lolooc. DemocrAtl

rage Of tho heroine, so suppose my
life ought to be over now. But Il seems
TO me a. IL II had just begun. am not
much Of . heroine--only country girl
who has seen nothing Of tho world but
George says l know quite enough, and
that there is nothing so delightful
~ . simple, young girl who has never
been into society. George. Is my hus-
band. was eighteen last week. Ever
since my thirteenth birthday have kept
q diary, and never missed writing in II
once. This is brand new one, with 6
lock and key. almost wish year was
written in II already. I feel so curious to
know about the future. People say 1t
is silly 10 keep q journal, but have
had great deal ofpleasure out of mine.
Sometimes on dull days l have read
about merry ones gone by, and then
everything has come back quite fresh,
and have seemed to live the pleasant
hours over again. or course, ] never
intend to have any secrets from George,
but ! made him promise faithfully not
to want to look 1t the new diary am
going to keep, and which / am begin
ming now. lie laughed and kissed Inc.
and swore that he would only read it
If I gave Il him Of my own free will.
l don't fancy I shall do that, because I
have an idea that it would seem silly
10 him, and l don't want him to
have q Door opinion Of me and
think Of me as a little school
girl. Not that I ever was at school,
which, be says, is very good thing. |
know he would laugh at the very words
] am going to write now, and no doubt
they are vain and ridiculous. 1 like
being called "my lady" After hav-
ing been no one in particular, and only
. younger daughter not very highly
considered, it is delightful to be "per-
soDsge" and to be made o great fuss
with. And, though it sounds very un-
smiabie, I can't help feeling the plea
sure increased by knowing that my sis
ter and cousins are most dreadfully
jealous Of me. They tried to hide it,
and they have made me promise to
ask them to stay very soon, and to do
all sorts of things for them,
and / mean to if George will let
me. And to think that three months
ago i had never seen him, and never
been in love, though had always longed
to be. only there was no one in our VIII
lage that l possibly could have made
q hero of! For three years lived on
the memory Of the handsome young
man who came to church once with the
Courtenays, and made him the hero Of
my novels and dreams. But all that is
past history, written in the volumes
left at home in my old desk, together
with the wonderful story of how | met
Sir George, and how he fell in love
with me and / with him. And | dare
not say how adore him, or how happy
/ am, for fear he should ever see what
/ have written.
We were married to-day, but every
thing is inextricably confused in my
mind. l know l woke at 5, with the
sun streaming in at the window, and
did not close my eyes again. 1t seems
almost week ago, and it is only twelve
hours. My new carriage-clock--one Of
my wedding-presents--ha just chimed
S. Then there was the dressing, and
all of them coming to help me; and |
wished them away, only did not like
to seem unkind. 1t was the first time
they had ever told me was pretty. l
liked that. Then the children strew-
ing flowers and the bishop marry
ing me. But the only part Of the
ceremony ! remember is when George
kissed me--the moment it was
over. Then the breakfast and the
speeches and the carriage.in-four and
the train-all that seems unreal, too.
One thing puzzles me. When we were
in the railway carriage George hardly
spoke, but kept looking out of the
window and / saw the reflection of
his face once, and fancied it had bag
gard, worried look, or it might only
have been distorted by the glass. And
when we arrived here he asked me if
would not like to rest little, and |
said " Yes ~; but | was rather disap-
pointed, because l should have liked
TO have gone out with him into
the delightful old garden that l can
see from my window. This is
such pretty, old-fashioned place,
quite ones idea OF what an old
country inn should be, and there is
q charming garden, with big trees and
lots of flowers. Some great person
wanted to lend George his country-seat
for our honeymoon, but he did not like
the idea, nor did |. Then it was set
tied that we should go to his own
home but just day or two before
the wedding, he asked me if | would
not much rather 60 where neither of US
was known, and agreed willingly, be-
csuse whatever he likes | like, and l
should have hated the fuss and cere-
mony Of addresses and triumphal
arches and that sort Of thing. All
that, / suppose, will take place later,
and ! shall be horribly shy and ner-
vous.
The most extraordinary thing has
happened George has just been in,
looking quite pale and upset, to tell me
that be has had telegram from one OF
his most intimate friends, who has had
an accident and implores him to 60 to
him at once. Poor George seems dis.
tracted. l hardly know how | felt
when he told me, but after moment
I said that of course, under the cir
cumstsnces, he ought to 60. Then he
caught me in his arms, but he looked
30 strange that ! felt almost frightened,
and was rather glad when he went.
al shall be back by IL O'Clock to-
morrow morning at latest, nay own
darlipg,n he said, and kissed me again |;
then rushed away. sat q long time
looking out of the window after he had
driven of. l cannot in the least de-
scribe how j feel. The expression Of
his iice haunts me. l suppose he is
dreadfully grieved about his poor
friend; but he looked almost as if ii
was his fault--ss il he had some sort
Of rsmorse about II. OF course, tina,
Il all nonsense. am rather given to
fsurvinS tbinrs. wish now / had