"Bride, upon thy wedding day Did the fluttering of thy breath
Speak of joy or woe beneath?
And the hue that went and came
On thy cheek, like lines of flame,
Flowed its crimson from the unrest
Or the gladness of thy breast?"
B
reakfast was over. Georgia, blushing and smiling beneath Miss Jerusha's curious scrutiny, had gone back to her room, and Miss Jerusha, sitting in her low rocking-chair, was left alone with the bright morning sunshine that lay in broad patches on the floor to the special delectation of Mrs. and Miss Betsey Periwinkle.
Miss Jerusha was thinking of a good many things in general, but Georgia's unaccountable freaks in particular, when a well-known step sounded on the threshold, and the tall, stately form of Richmond Wildair stood before her.
 
Miss Jerusha was always pleased to have the rich young squire visit her, because it added to her importance in the eyes of the villagers; so she got up with a brisk, delighted "how d'ye do," and placed a chair for her visitor.
 
"All alone, Miss Jerusha?" said Mr. Wildair, taking up Betsey Periwinkle the second, who came purring politely around him, and stroking her mottled coat.
 
"Wall, not exactly," said Miss Jerusha. "Georgia's up stairs, for a wonder. I'll call her down, if you like."[Pg 172]
 
"No—never mind," said Mr. Wildair. "Miss Georgia doesn't always seem so glad to see me that she should be disturbed now on my account."
 
"Wall, Mr. Wildair, Georgey's queer; there's never no tellin' what she'll do; if you 'spect her to do one thing you may be pretty certain she'll do 'xactly t'other. Now, yesterday afternoon she went out as glum as a porkypine"—Miss Jerusha's ideas of porcupines were rather vague—"and, bless my stars! if she didn't come in a smilin' like a basket of chips. My 'pinion is," said Miss Jerusha, firmly, "that something's come to her; you needn't believe it if you don't like too, but I do."
 
A smile full of curious meaning broke over Mr. Wildair's face.
 
"On the contrary, my dear madam, I do believe it most firmly. Not only do I think something came to her yesterday, but I know it from positive observation."
 
"Hey?" said Miss Jerusha, looking up sharply.
 
Mr. Wildair put down little Betsey Periwinkle, got up, and leaning his arm on the mantel, with that same strange smile on his face, stood looking down on Miss Jerusha.
 
"What is it?" asked the old lady, with a puzzled look answering that smile, as if he had spoken.
 
"My dear Miss Jerusha, I have a favor to ask of you this morning, a great favor, a very great favor, indeed," he said, with a light she had never seen before in his handsome eyes.
 
"Wall," said Miss Jerusha, looking most delightfully perplexed, "what is it?"
 
"I want you to give me something."
 
"You do! Why, my gracious! I ain't got nothing to give you."[Pg 173]
 
"Yes, you have; a treasure beyond all price."
 
"Good gracious! where?" said Miss Jerusha, gazing round with a bewildered look.
 
"I mean—Georgia."
 
"Hey!"
 
Richmond laughed. Miss Jerusha had jumped as if she had suddenly sat down on an upturned tack.
 
"Miss Jerusha, Richmond House wants a mistress, and I want Miss Georgia Darrell to be that mistress."
 
"Oh, my gracious!" cried the overwhelmed Miss Jerusha, sinking back in her chair.
 
"You have no objections, I hope, my dear madam."
 
"Oh, my gracious! did you ever?" exclaimed Miss Jerusha, appealing to society at large. "Marry my Georgey! My-y-y conscience alive!"
 
Richmond stood smilingly before her, running his fingers through his glossy dark hair, waiting for her astonishment to evaporate.
 
"You ain't in airnest, now," said Miss Jerusba, resting her chin on her hand and peering up in his face with a look of mingled incredulity and delight, as the faded vision of the brown silk, and the new straw bonnet began again to loom up in the distance.
 
"Never was so much so in my life. Come, Miss Jerusha, say I may have her."
 
"Why, my stars and garters! 'tain't me you ought for to ask, it's Georgey. Why didn't you ask her?"
 
"I have already done so. I asked her last evening."
 
"Oh-h-h!" said Miss Jerusha, drawing in her breath, and sending out the ejaculation in a perfect whistle of astonishment at the new light that dawned upon her. "I[Pg 174] see now. That's what did it! Well, I never! And what did she say?"
 
"She said what I want you to say—yes."
 
"But, look here," said Miss Jerusha, to whom the news seemed a great deal too good to be true, "how about that there heiress, you know—hey?"
 
"What heiress?" said Richmond, with a smile.
 
"Why, you know—that one everybody said you were a-goin' to be married to—that one from the city."
 
"Don't know the lady at all—never had the pleasure of seeing her in my life, Miss Jerusha."
 
"Well, now, it seems to me there's suthin' wrong somewhere," said Miss Jerusha, doubtfully; "why, you told me yourself, Mr. Wildair, you were going to marry a heiress—'mensely rich, you said. I recommember your very words."
 
"And so I am; but Georgia was the heiress I meant—immensely rich in beauty, and a noble, generous heart."
 
"Humph! poor sort o' riches to get along in the world with," said Miss Jerusha, rather cynically. "If you meant Georgey all along, what made you let folks think it was to somebody else—that there young woman from the city?"
 
Richmond laughed, and shook back his dark clustering hair.
 
"From a rather unworthy motive, I must own, Miss Jerusha. I wanted to make Georgia jealous, and so be sure she liked me."
 
"Wal, I never! that tells the whole story. She was jealous, and that is what made her as cross as two sticks. Well, to be sure! if it ain't funny! he! he! he!"
 
And Miss Jerusha indulged in a regular cachinnation[Pg 175] for the first time that Richmond ever remembered to hear her.
 
"I am glad it seems to please you. Then we have your consent?"
 
"Why, my gracious, yes! I hain't the least objection. I guess not. What do your folks say about it?"
 
"My 'folks' will not object. I am my own master, Miss Jerusha. I have written to tell my mother, and I know she will not disapprove of any step I see fit to take," said Richmond, composedly.
 
"Well, railly! And when is it a-goin' to come off?"
 
"What?"
 
"Why, the weddin', to be sure."
 
"Oh, there is no use for unnecessary delay. I spoke to Georgia on the subject, and proposed Tuesday fortnight; but she seems to think that too soon—in fact, was preposterous enough to propose waiting until next year. Of course, I wouldn't listen a moment to any such proposition."
 
"Of course not," said Miss Jerusha, decidedly, thinking of her brown silk, which she had no notion of waiting for so long.
 
"Do you think Tuesday fortnight too soon?"
 
"Gracious, no! I can get the two dressmakers, and have everything ready before that, quite easy."
 
"Thank you, Miss Jerusha," said Richmond, gratefully; "and as suitable things cannot be obtained here, one of the dressmakers you mention will go with Mrs. Hamm to the city and procure a bridal outfit for my peerless Georgia. Neither shall you, my dear, kind friend, be forgotten; and, believe me, I shall endeavor to reward you for all your kindness to my future bride. And now for my plans. Immediately after we are married we depart for New York,[Pg 176] and remain for some time with my mother there. We will return here and remain until the fall, when we will depart for Washington, and there spend the winter. Next year we will probably travel on the Continent, and after that—sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," he said, breaking off into a smile. "And now, if you like, you may call Georgia; we must reason her out of this absurd notion of postponing our marriage. I count upon your help, Miss Jerusha."
 
So Georgia was called, and came down, looking a great deal more lovely, if less brilliant, in her girlish blushes, and smiles, and shy timidity than she had ever been when arrayed in her haughty pride. And Miss Jerusha attacked and overwhelmed her with a perfect storm of contemptuous speeches at the notion of putting off her marriage, quite sneering at the idea of such a thing, and Richmond looked so pleading that Georgia, half laughing, and half crying, and wholly against her will, was forced, in self-defense, to strike her colors, and surrender. She was so happy now, so deeply, intensely happy, that she shrank from the idea of disturbing it by the bustle and fuss that must come, and she looked forward shrinkingly, almost in terror, to the time when she would be a wife, even though it were his. But the promise was given, and Georgia's promises were never retracted, and so the matter was settled.
 
That afternoon the stately little housekeeper at Richmond House was told she was to have a mistress. Mrs. Hamm was altogether too well-bred, and too much of a lady, to be surprised at anything in this world; yet, when she heard her young master was going to marry a village girl, a slight, a very slight, smile of contempt was concealed behind her delicate lace-bordered handkerchief, but[Pg 177] she quietly bowed, and professed her willingness to start for New York at any moment. And the very next morning, accompanied by the dressmaker Miss Jerusha had spoken of, she took her departure, with orders to spare no expense in procuring the bridal outfit.
 
Never was there a more restless, eccentric, tormenting bride-elect than Georgia. From being positively wild, she became superlatively wildest, and drove Miss Jerusha and Mr. Wildair daily to the verge of desperation for the next two weeks. She laughed at him, fled from him, refused to take a walk with him or sing to him, and made herself generally so provoking, that Richmond vowed she was wearing him to a skeleton, and threatened awful vengeance at some period fast forthcoming. And Georgia would laugh the shrill elfish laugh of her childhood, and fly up to her room, and lock herself in, and be invisible until he had gone.
 
Georgia wanted Emily to be her bride-maid, but when Emily heard that the Rev. Mr. Barebones was to officiate on the occasion, she refused. Georgia, who was not particular who performed the ceremony of "enslaving her," as she called it, asked Richmond to allow Father Murray to unite them; but, to her surprise, Richmond's brow darkened, and he positively refused. Georgia was inclined to resent this at first; but then she considered it might arise from conscientious scruples, and though she had none of her own, yet she respected them in others, and so she yielded, and Miss Becky Barebones, a gaunt damsel, whose looks were faintly shadowed forth in her nam............