All was now gayety and cheerfulness: and as nothing occurred either to delay the wedding again, or to imbitter the after lives of Edward and Marian de Vaux, we shall pa.s.s the whole over with the fewest possible words--they were united and were happy.

But one scene more, and we have done. On the day succeeding that of the wedding, there was, according to the custom of that time, a grand and solemn dinner given at Morley House to all the grave and reverend seniors in the neighbourhood. It was now the height of summer; and though men sat long and drank deep in those days, yet people who were sufficiently reasonable to condemn the practice, and sufficiently firm to contemn an idle sneer, could rise from table when they liked, even then. Thus, about an hour after the ladies had retired, and just as the sun's lower rim touched the horizon, Colonel Manners, who had been strangling a whole generation of yawns, rose and sauntered to the window. Mr. Arden, who had sat next to him, instantly seized the decanter, and exclaimed, "Come, come, colonel; your gla.s.s is charged."

"Thank you," answered Manners; "I do not drink any more."

"Poo, poo," cried the magistrate; "no flinching, colonel; your gla.s.s is charged--charged to the muzzle; and a gallant soldier like you will never refuse to fire it off."

"I am on half-pay," answered Manners, with a smile; and moving towards the door, notwithstanding all Mr. Arden's objurgations, he left the room.

In the drawing-room he found the ladies scattered in various parties, and engaged in various occupations. Mrs. Falkland was paying such attention to her guests as the circ.u.mstances required; but Isadore, as if she had quite forgotten them, was standing at the far bay window, looking at the setting sun and thinking--

Manners advanced as quietly as possible to the same spot, and spoke a few words to Miss Falkland, which she answered in the same tone. It was a low one. The conversation might thus have gone on for a long time without disturbing any one; but Lady Margaret Simpson, who sat at the other side of the room, was fond of being a third; and in about five minutes she crossed over and joined them.

"Well, Colonel Manners," she said, "I have not been able to speak a word to you all dinner-time, and I wanted to talk to you about the wedding. Has not this been a very fortunate termination to all that bad business?"

"Most satisfactory, indeed," answered Manners, with a glance towards Isadore, who looked vexed and provoked. "I doubt not that De Vaux and his fair bride are fully of your opinion."

"Oh, they of course think so," rejoined Lady Margaret; "and there can be no doubt that marriage is a very right and very proper thing, when fortune, and rank, and all that agree. Do you not think so, my dear Miss Falkland?"

"Certainly, madam," answered Isadore, in a tone which argued a doubt whether she should laugh or cry; "I dare say it is a very proper thing."

"Then now tell me," cried Lady Margaret, in a gay and happy tone of raillery--"then now tell me, why you--who I know have had three very good offers indeed--why you yourself do not marry? Tell me the truth, now."

"Oh, certainly I will," answered Isadore, half gayly, half pettishly.

"It is, I suppose, because I do not think it worth while to marry without love; and if the man that I could love does not choose to propose to me, it is quite impossible, you know, that I can propose to him."

G.o.d knows whether the colour that spread over Isadore's face came from within or without,--whether it was a rush of warm blood from some deep source in her heart, or the warm beams of the setting sun reflected from the damask curtain on her cheek. However that might be, she felt that the crimson was growing too deep, and turning round, upon some light excuse, she left the room. Manners remained for a moment or two to hear some more of her ladyship's pleasantries; and then declaring that he could not abandon, even for the pleasure of her society, his sunset walk in the garden, he strolled out through the anteroom, which was not the way that Isadore had taken. When he reached the lobby, however, he remembered that there was a certain music-room, of which he had remarked that Isadore Falkland had lately become extremely fond, and as he had by this time acquired a strong liking for the things that she liked, he turned his steps thither instead of to the garden.

No sooner did he open the door, than he beheld Miss Falkland seated near the window, with a handkerchief in her hand, engaged in the somewhat sad occupation of wiping tears from her eyes. "Good G.o.d, Colonel Manners!" she exclaimed, as soon as he appeared, "leave me, leave me, I beg."

But Manners did not obey. On the contrary, advancing rapidly towards her, he took her hand, saying, "Miss Falkland, I am either the most happy or the most miserable of men. I have broken through all my resolutions; I have exposed myself to love, where I have no right to entertain a hope; I love for the first time, deeply, pa.s.sionately, sincerely, and it is for you to say whether that pa.s.sion shall be my curse or my blessing."

Isadore replied not, but her tears burst forth more vehemently than before; and the hand that Manners had taken remained trembling in his.

Manners pressed her to his heart; and Isadore ended her flood of tears upon his bosom.

It was nearly three months after this event ere Isadore Falkland again met Lady Margaret Simpson; and then her ladyship's first exclamation was, "Goodness, my dear Miss Falkland, they tell me you are going to be married to Colonel Manners! Well, I do declare, when you are so very handsome, it is a great pity that he is so ugly."

"Ugly!" cried Isadore. "Ugly! Lady Margaret! He is the handsomest man in all the world!" and she continued to think so to her dying day.

THE END.