might claim the young bride ere the day of sacrifice came. In vain her mother strove to interest her in the gay proceedings – entreating she would at least choose a costume for her expected début.
"Do with me as you will, mother," Mildred would reply, with a faint smile.
In the sleeping-room of Mrs. Donaldson there hung a portrait of a beautiful Turkish maiden. This picture was a favorite with Mildred, and it occurred to Mrs. Donaldson that a similar costume would well become the style of her daughter's beauty. A careful examination of her own and Mildred's ward-robe convinced her the thing could be done, and she set herself diligently to prepare the dress – Mildred passively obeying her directions.
At length all was finished, and in its swift course Time brought round the appointed evening for the début of the wretched Mildred, so soon to become a more wretched wife. At an early hour those guests who resided at a distance began to arrive, and after partaking of the grateful refreshments provided for them were conducted to their dressing-rooms, to prepare for the festivities of the evening – all being expected to appear en masqué.
Mrs. Donaldson, the still handsome mistress of the fête, wore a splendid dress of the tartan, in compliment to the Scottish tastes of her husband, who himself appeared in the costume of a Highland Chief, and had already entered the drawing-room, in readiness to welcome the gay throng. The victim, too, was ready. Passive as a lamb in the hands of the destroyer, she had suffered her mother and her maid to array her, and now sat like some marbled image, awaiting the coming of Perozzi to lead her forth.
How lovely she was, nor yet casting one look to the mirror wherein her exquisite form and beautiful face were reflected. The robe her mother had chosen was the same as the picture, of a pale rose color, floating like a summer cloud around her lovely person, and confined to her waist by a broad girdle of white satin, wrought with gold and clasped by a superb diamond. The sleeves of the same airy fabric as the caftan were long and loose, revealing in their transparency the fine contour of her snowy arm, and were ornamented upon the shoulders and around the graceful fold of the outer edge with rich embroidery seeded with pearls. The caftan was slightly open at the bust, displaying an under vest of thin white gauze gathered in maidenly modesty over her lovely bosom, and fastened by a magnificent cluster of diamonds and rubies. A talpec, or head-dress, of white velvet, around which were wound two rows of the finest pearls, was placed low on her pale brow, from which her beautiful hair fell in long natural ringlets, looped here and there with sprigs of the white jasmine and orange buds.
Gently the wind swayed the orange boughs, and creeping through the flowery links of the jessamine and passa-flora, kissed the pale cheek of Mildred as she sat there in her misery – twilight stole on with saddened step, and from out the cloudless heavens one by one the stars looked down upon her wretchedness. Then over the distant mountains rose up the full-orbed moon, bathing their summits with gladness and flooding the valleys with calm and holy light. On she came, majestic and serene, o'er her glorious path, and as her mild beams quivered through the thick clustering blossoms around the window they touched the heart of Mildred as the smile of angels. Throwing open the jalousie she stepped into the veranda, and leaning over the balustrade gazed upon the peaceful landscape stretching before her in all the chastened loveliness of the moonlight.
There was something in the scene which brought with it the "light of other days" to her sad heart. For a few brief moments she was happy – present sorrows lost themselves in past pleasures. Once more upon the ivy-clad battlements of Norcross Hall she was standing with Helen and Rupert, while the scene upon which the moon looked down identified itself with the woods and dells of that beloved spot. Her bright dream was brief – the voice of Perozzi in loud and angry altercation with some one awoke her too rudely to her misery.
"O, Rupert!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands in agony as she turned to re-enter her chamber – "Rupert, farewell – farewell forever!"
"Dearest Mildred!" cried a voice whose tones leaped into her heart with a strange thrill of joy – "dearest Mildred!"
Did she still dream – or was it indeed Rupert to whose breast she was now folded with a bliss too great for words!
"Thank God, Rupert, you have come!" cried Mildred.
"Mildred," said Rupert, (for it was indeed Rupert,) "what mean these tears? Are you not happy – this marriage – "
"A – h!" shrieked Mildred, clinging to him as though the basilisk hand of Perozzi were already upon her, "save me – save me, Rupert!"
"Save you! dearest, beloved Mildred – tell me – tell me quick – this marriage – is it not your own choice?"
"O no, no, no!" sobbed Mildred.
"Then no power on earth shall compel you to it! You are mine – mine, dearest Mildred!" and clasping her once more in his arms, Rupert kissed the tears from her beautiful eyes, as full of hope and love they met his beaming gaze.
"But my grandfather!" she cried, starting up.
"He is here, dear girl."
"Here! then lead me to him quickly – let me implore him to have pity upon me!"
The arrival of Mr. Dundass upon the scene was wholly unlooked for by Mr. Donaldson – need we say as wholly unwelcome. Guilt and fear paled his cheek and almost palsied his tongue as his lips feigned a welcome – nor was Perozzi less moved. To define the feelings of Mrs. Donaldson would be difficult. Her love for her daughter had been held in complete subjugation to the will of her husband, and while she grieved deeply for the sorrows heaped upon her, her love and fear of Mr. Donaldson, and her knowledge of his pecuniary distress caused her at the same time to exert all her influence to rivet the chain around poor Mildred – so strange is human nature! What then was to be the result of her father's unexpected visit – was it freedom for Mildred – was it to heap disgrace upon her husband?
In the mean time Mr. Dundass had been shown to a private room in a remote wing of the building, while Mr. Donaldson and Perozzi were already planning new schemes. They resolved that Mildred should be kept in ignorance of her grandfather's arrival as long as possible – of Rupert's they themselves knew nothing – and that on no account should she be allowed to speak with him privately. The marriage should take place at an early hour the following morning —that consummated they would defy even the devil himself!
Mr. Dundass was sitting sad and sorrowful in the apartment to which he had been conducted, for this marriage filled him with grief, wondering that Mildred did not appear to welcome him, or that Rupert did not return, when the door suddenly opened and Mildred rushed in, and falling at his feet exclaimed:
"O dearest, dearest grandfather, pity me – O sacrifice me not to Perozzi!"
"Sacrifice you, my darling child! Come to my arms – what mean you —sacrifice– I thought it was your happiness I was securing by consenting to your union."
"Happiness! O grandfather – rather my misery!"
"What does this mean?" exclaimed Mr. Dundass. "There must be treachery somewhere! God knows how it has grieved my heart to think of your union with that man – I know him to be a villain, and when repeatedly urged to consent to the marriage, I as repeatedly refused, until your own letter – "
"My letter – good heavens!" exclaimed Mildred.
"Written in the most moving language, at length won my reluctant consent!"
All was now explained, and the villainy of Mr. Donaldson and his coadjutor made clear.
"Courage, courage, my darling," said Mr. Dundass, "come with me. Come, Rupert, I will 'beard the lion in his den,' and make known this infamous plot – come."
"My mother – spare her, dear grandfather – forgive them all – I am happy now – let us not mar the pleasure of the guests," interceded Mildred.
"You say right, my child – to-morrow will be soon enough. But come with me, children – let us join the gay assembly – nay, fear not, Mildred. Perozzi, the villain, he shall not dare even to look upon you!"
Now strains of delicious music filled the air – lights gleamed – jewels flashed