Cousin Maude | Page 7

a measure to soothe her irritated feelings
and quiet the rapid beatings of her heart, which for hours after she
retired to rest would occasionally whisper to her that the path she was
about to tread was far from being strewn with flowers.
"He loves me, I know," she thought, "though his manner of showing it
is so different from Harry; but I shall become accustomed to that after a
while, and be very, very happy." And comforted with this assurance she
fell asleep, encircling within her arms the little Maude, whose name
had awakened bitter memories in the heart of him who in an adjoining
chamber battled with thoughts of the dark past, which now on the eve
of his second marriage passed in sad review before his mind.
Memories there were of a gentle, pale-faced woman, who, when her

blue eyes were dim with coming death, had shudderingly turned away
from him, as if his presence brought her more of pain than joy.
Memories, too, there were of another--a peerlessly beautiful creature
who, ere he had sought the white-faced woman for his wife, had
trampled on his affections and spurned as a useless gift his offered love.
He hated her now, he thought; and the little black- haired child,
sleeping so sweetly in its mother's arms, was hateful in his sight,
because it bore that woman's name. One, two, three-- sounded the clock,
and then he fell asleep, dreaming that underneath the willows which
grew in the churchyard, far off on Laurel Hill, there were two graves
instead of one; that in the house across the common there was a sound
of rioting and mirth, unusual in that silent mansion. For she was there,
the woman whom he had so madly loved, and wherever she went
crowds gathered about her as in the olden time.
"Maude Glendower, why are you here?" he attempted to say, when a
clear, silvery voice aroused him from his sleep, and starting up, he
listened half in anger, half in disappointment, to the song which little
Maude Remington sang as she sat in the open door awaiting the return
of her mother, who had gone for the last time to see the sunshine fall on
Harry's grave.

CHAPTER II.
THE JOURNEY.
Mrs. Kennedy looked charming in her traveling dress of brown, and the
happy husband likened her to a Quakeress, as he kissed her blushing.
cheek and called her his "little wife." He had passed through the
ceremony remarkably well, standing very erect, making the responses
very, loud, and squeezing very becomingly the soft white hand on
whose third finger he placed the wedding ring--a very small one, by the
way. It was over now, and many of the bridal guests were gone; the
minister, too, had gone, and jogging leisurely along upon his sorrel
horse had ascertained the size of his fee, feeling a little disappointed
that it was not larger--five dollars seemed so small, when he fully

expected twenty from one of Dr. Kennedy's reputed wealth.
Janet had seen that everything was done for the comfort of the travelers,
and then out behind the smokehouse had scolded herself soundly for
crying, when she ought to appear brave, and encourage her young
mistress. Not the slightest hint had she received that she was not to
follow them in a few, weeks, and when at parting little Maude clung to
her skirts, beseeching her to go, she comforted the child by telling her
what she would bring her in the autumn, when she came. Half a dozen
dolls, as many pounds of candy, a dancing jack, and a mewing kitten
were promised, and then the faithful creature turned to the weeping
bride, who clasped her hard old hand convulsively, for she knew it was
a long good-by. Until the carriage disappeared from view did Mrs.
Kennedy look back through blinding tears to the spot where Janet stood,
wiping her eyes with a corner of her stiffly starched white apron, and
holding up one foot to keep her from soiling her clean blue cotton
stockings, for, in accordance with a superstition peculiar to her race,
she had thrown after the travelers a shoe, by way of insuring them good
luck.
For once in his life Dr. Kennedy tried to be very kind and attentive to
his bride, who, naturally hopeful and inclined to look upon the brighter
side, dried her tears soon after entering the cars, and began to fancy she
was very happy in her new position as the wife of Dr. Kennedy. The
seat in front of them was turned back and occupied by Maude, who
busied herself a while in watching the fence and the trees, which she
said were "running so fast toward Janet and home!" Then her dark eyes
would