The Wedding Guest Part 11

Apologies and blushes, Soft looks, averted eyes, Each heart into the other rushes, Each yields, and wins a prize.

A gathering of fond friends,-- Brief, solemn words, and prayer,-- A trembling to the fingers' ends, As hand in hand, they swear.

Sweet cake, sweet wine; sweet kisses, And so the deed is done; Now for life's waves and blisses, The wedded two are one.

And down the s.h.i.+ning stream, They launch their buoyant skiff, Bless'd, if they may but trust hope's dream, But ah! Truth echoes--"If!"

THE SEQUEL.--"IF."

If health be firm--if friend be true-- If self be well-controlled, If tastes be pure--if wants be few-- And not too often told--

If reason always rule the heart-- If pa.s.sion own its sway-- If love--for aye--to life impart The zest it does to-day--

If Providence, with parent care, Mete out the varying lot-- While meek contentment bows to share, The palace, or the cot--

And oh! if Faith, sublime and clear, The spirit upwards guide-- Then bless'd indeed, and bless'd for ever, The bridegroom and the bride!

ELMA'S MISSION.

"EVER, evermore!" repeated a young man, bending with a smile over the fair face that rested on his breast.

"Yes! evermore!" softly breathed the smiling lips upon which he gazed, and evermore shone from the melting, heavenly eyes.

"And you believe all these bright fancies you have been telling me of, darling?" asked the young man.

"Ah! yes--they are truth to me; they dwell in my heart of hearts--they belong to the deepest and sweetest mysteries of my being. I gaze out through the glory upon life, and I see no coldness, no darkness--everything is coloured with bright radiance from the eternal world. It is happiness that gives me this beautiful view. I have known that the world was filled, with love, but I have never so clearly seen it before. And sure I am that if I were to die now, this same splendour of love would still be poured through my soul; for it is myself, and I cannot lose it. If you were next week in Europe, far from me, would not your inner world be illumined with love and hope?"

"It certainly would!

"And can you doubt the durability, the truth and reality of this inner-life? Can this clay instrument be of any moment farther than it serves to develop life, in this, our first school?--we should not confound the earthly dwelling with the free man who makes it his temporary home. Ah! Horace, I feel, I am, sure, you will some day enjoy all these enn.o.bling thoughts with me, and then existence will also be to you sublime."

An expression of radiant hope flitted over the young man's face, and he kissed the soft lips and eyes of his betrothed, while he murmured, "I would suffer the loss of all happiness on earth, I would bear every stroke the Almighty might inflict, if I _could_ believe as you do, of a life beyond this. I am no unbeliever, you know. I read my Bible daily, but beyond this world everything to me is misty and dark. I shudder at the ghastliness of the grave, and would forget that I cannot always clasp your warm heart to my own.

You were surely sent to be my good angel, to teach me all that is gentlest and best in my nature, and this holy love _must_ last evermore. I have always smiled at the idea of love, at first sight, but when I first saw your face, Elma, none ever was so welcome; yet if you had not proved all that your face and manner promised, I should not have fallen in love. I half-believe matches are made in Heaven--ours will be Heaven-made, if any are. You think human beings are made for each other, as the saying is, do you not?"

"Yes!" returned Elma, smiling, "I _hope_ we are made to be partners in this world, and a better one, but how can I know it? When my happy womanhood first dawned, I had wild, sweet dreams that here on earth I and many others would surely meet the true half that belonged to us--one with whom every thought would find a response. I have met many whose views are like mine, and yet whose natures are so different that we could not see each other's souls; perhaps if they had loved me, I could have seen more clearly--but my rebellious heart went forth to meet you, although I tried so long to turn away--although I trembled to think the religion of our natures was so unlike."

"I once thought, love, that I should never win you--it was your pale lips and the mournful intensity of your look, when we met after a long absence, that gave me new hope; and I have often wondered, Elma, why you gave so unhesitating an a.s.sent, when you had for months at a time avoided me at every opportunity."

"It was because my views had changed in a manner--although still believing in the fitness of two out of the whole universe for each other, I began to think that on earth these very two might each have a mission to others, and others to them, which would more fully call out their characters, and perhaps develop the dark traits necessary to be conquered--so that perfect harmony might be evolved from chaos. It once seemed to me, with the views I held, that it would be a sin for me to unite my destiny with one who did not sympathize with me on all points. But the sad fate of Augusta Atwood made me reflect deeply. She was my bosom friend, and never did mortal go to the altar with brighter hopes--never did human being love more unreservedly. She whispered to me as I arranged her hair on the morning of her bridal:--'This seems to me like the beginning of my heavenly life--there is not a height or depth of my soul that Charles's nature does not respond to--I _know_ that we two are truly one." And so it seemed for two happy years--his character took every one by surprise, perhaps himself, and now Augusta is a miserably neglected wife, toiling on like an angel to reap good from her desolated earth-life. Yet we see that her mighty love was not a true interpreter. No doubt her lover was sincere at the time in believing that they not only felt, but thought alike. I have known many instances, very many, where two, perhaps equally good and true, have thought themselves fitted for each other and none else; yet on the death of one, they have found a companion who was still more especially made for them. Thus we see that this is a matter where there appears to be little certainty and many mistakes. Doubtless, there are some few blessed ones who truly find their better--half; but in this sinful, imperfect state of life, we cannot believe that we are in an order sufficiently harmonious to have this a sure thing. Perhaps one-third of the women in the world never even loved half as well as they felt themselves capable of loving, simply because no object presented himself who could call forth all the music of a high and n.o.ble nature.

"So many a soul o'er life's drear desert faring, Love's pure congenial spring unfound, unquaffed, Suffers, recoils, then thirsty and despairing Of what it would, descends and sips the nearest draught."

But, Elma, my child, it is not pleasant to me that you should have a single doubt that _we_ are not dearer to each other than any other mortals could ever be in this world, or the beautiful one you love to dream of."

"I am telling you, Horace, the thoughts that have been in my mind--I only feel now that you are good and gifted, and I love you more than I ever dreamed of loving."

"And you, sweet, are the breath of my life. It is heavenly to know that G.o.d has given you, and you alone, to be the angel ministrant of my oft tempestuous life: you have risen like a star over my cloudy horizon--may the light of the gentle star s.h.i.+ne on my path, until it leads me unto the perfect day!"

"Only the light of the Sun of Righteousness can do that," returned Elma; then, with a tear glistening on her lash, she added, "I hope G.o.d will help me to be good and pure, that I may be a medium of good, and not evil to you."

Most blessedly pa.s.sed the days to that hopeful maiden; it was a treasure full of all promise to have, not only the happiness of her lover, but as she trusted, his best good committed to her charge, next to G.o.d. When she knelt in the morning hour, her prayer was ever a thanksgiving--she lifted up the gates of her soul that the King of Glory might come in, and His radiant presence permeated her whole being--she left to Him the control of her life, all the strange mysteries of heavenly policy, which she felt and knew would ultimate in perfecting her too worldly nature; and she went forth, angel-attended, to her duties, fusing into them this effluent life that dwelt so richly within her. Every word of kindness and love that dropped from her soft, coral lips, bore with it a portion of the smiling life that overflowed her spirit. When she arose, her constant thought was, "Another day is coming, in which the work of progress may go on: I may perhaps this day conquer some evil, or do some humble good, that will fit me to be a still better angel to Horace, and which shall beautify my mansion in the Heavens."

At length the bridal day came, and fled also like other days, save that a sweeter brightness enwrapped the soul of Elma; so six months or more flitted away in delicious dream-life, for outward things made comparatively slight impression; Elma lived and loved more than she thought. But one morning reflection and pain came together; the latter led in the former, a long-forgotten friend, and the young wife asked herself how far she had travelled onward and upward since the bridal days, since her path had been all suns.h.i.+ne;--she bowed her head and wept bitterly. "Not for me, at least," she sighed, "is constant happiness a friend,--not yet am I fitted to enjoy the highest harmony of life. 'Therefore, burn, thou holy pain, thou purifying fire!' It is meet I should be wounded where my deepest joys are lodged. I see that it is the lash of pain which must drive me through the golden gates. Yes! I will arise, and thank my Father that He has not been as unmindful of my eternal well-being as I would be myself, if left to wander only among flowers of love and gladness."

And what was this grief that awoke the bride from her blissful dream? It would seem the merest nothing to the strong man of the world, to the gay woman who glides, superficially through existence.

But many a young bride will understand how it might be more sorrowful than the loss of houses and lands. It was the husband's first frown, his first petulant word; it was the key that opened Elma's understanding to the true estate of the past. She could no longer blind her eyes, as she had done, to a certain worldliness in her husband, and which had also reached her through him. This morning, that revealed so much, Horace had impatiently exclaimed as Elma held forth her Bible to him, as usual,--

"I have not time for that now, child!" and hastily kissing her, he put on his hat, and went forth to his business.

A pale anguish settled on Elma's face as she sunk upon a chair.

"Is this the beginning of sorrows?" she murmured; "he never spoke to me so before, perhaps he will often do so again. If it had been about anything else, I think I could have borne it better! Oh G.o.d!

is the angel leaving our Paradise?"

And she thought over and over again of this worldliness in her husband, and his want of the high standard in religion that was so dear to her; she felt that she was, in a measure, deceived in him,--surely once he seemed to dwell in an atmosphere that was more spiritual. Yes! Elma was deceived in him, but Horace had not deceived her. In the happy glow of his successful love, he had caught the warmth of Elma's thoughts; they had charmed his imagination, in a measure commended themselves to his understanding, and made a temporary impression upon him heart, so that he went out among men with a more benevolent spirit than he had ever done before. But truth, to be abiding, must be sought after with an eager thirst; and it came to Horace crowned with flowers; he condescended to take the charmer in, and obeyed her for awhile, then she was forgotten, he thought not why, and he imperceptibly returned to the real self, which Elma had never before had an opportunity to become acquainted with.

Three years went by. Horace was a devoted husband, no being on earth was to him so perfect as his wife--no human being had ever exerted over him the quiet, holy influence that belonged to Elma. She had gradually accomplished infinitely more than she suspected, yet many a time, and oft, had he caused her grieved tears to fall like rain.

Many a time had despairing prayers risen from her soul for him, while she breathed out to her G.o.d a cry for strength. She felt that she saw through a gla.s.s darkly; but she sought with most earnest heart for every duty, knowing that thus her pathway would lead continually to a more sure and steady light.

Elma often wondered that so much joy was given to her earthly life; but she understood the true philosophy, for her every grief was regarded as a special messenger from the spirit-land, and amid her tears she looked up, and resolutely answered to the call, "Excelsior!" She was ever receiving with grat.i.tude the blessings that cl.u.s.tered about her lot, and, as it were, trans.m.u.ting all common things into pleasures, by seeking out a brightness in them.

But a heavier trial was in store for the wife than she had antic.i.p.ated. Horace had been very unfortunate in business; he bore it with more gentleness than Elma had expected, but it wore upon his spirits; day after day he was busied in settling up, and came home with a look of sadness and anxiety. One evening he came in with a brighter look.

"What is the news?" asked his wife, as she read his face.

"I have an offer of a clerks.h.i.+p, at a very good salary, eighteen hundred dollars a year!"

"We can get along admirably with that!" said Elma, with a bright smile. "You know we are retrenching our expenses so much, that we can live on half that, and the rest can go towards your debts. In a few years you will be able to pay all you owe, will you not?"

"Perhaps so, by exerting every faculty, and living on less than you propose!"

"Oh! well, we can!" was the eager response. "I'll manage to get along on almost nothing; as small a sum as you choose to name. Every trifling deprivation will be an actual delight, that helps to discharge those debts. It will, indeed!" she added, as Horace smiled at her enthusiasm.

"I believe you, little one, every word you say!" and, with an air of cheerful affection, such as he had not shown for weeks, the husband drew his wife's head upon his breast, and, forgetful of cold business cares and the world, they were gay, tender, and happy.

It was with a different look that Horace entered his home the next evening; a shadow fell on Elma's heart when she saw him, and the evening meal pa.s.sed in silence.

"What are you thinking of, Horace?" she timidly asked, some time after, approaching him as he stood by the window, gazing out gloomily into the star-lighted street.

"I have received a better offer, and have determined to accept it."

It must be known that Horace came quickly to a decision, and then persevered in it; none knew the vanity of striving to change him, when fairly resolved, better than Elma; but in small matters he was yielding as Elma herself. She stood in a fearful silence, looking into his face, which he had turned towards her.