Chapter LXVII

“I will do just what papa tells me,” said Aline, trustingly, and an eager light of joy gleamed in Oran Delaney’s eyes. He fancied that Mr. Rodney would be kind to him--that he would give him the boon he craved.

He was right in his surmise. The lawyer was disposed to be very kind to the man whom he had wounded near unto death. Now that the truth had come to light, now that his beautiful daughter was safe at home again, he was sorely repentant for what he had done. He was haunted by remorse. He would have given anything in his power to undo the deed he had done in his bitter wrath.

And now when Oran Delaney told him in a few frank words that his descent into the dark grave would be soothed if he might call Aline his bride before he died, he was most eager to grant him this boon. Aline, touched with a strange awe at the nearing presence of death, and willing to atone for her father’s sin, consented at once to give her hand to the man who at best could claim it but a few short hours.

Every one of the household was quite willing for this strange marriage. They argued that it did not matter, even although Aline did not love him, as it was for such a very little while.

So the very next morning there was a strange and quiet marriage in the sick-room. Aline, arrayed in all the wedding finery of Effie, and lovely as a dream in the new gravity and dignity that had settled upon her, stood by the sick-bed with her hand in Oran Delaney’s and responded to the solemn marriage service that made her his own until Death should part them--Death, that stood silent and unseen in the room even now, fearful of being robbed of his prey.

Oran Delaney’s voice rang clear and steady in the beautiful responses. Aline’s was low and firm. As in a dream, she felt the wedding-ring slipped on her finger, she heard the clergyman’s blessing. There was a little stir about her, and then mamma and Effie were kissing and crying over her, her father and Dr. Anthony were pressing her hand. She shook herself free from them all presently, and tried to realize what had happened to her. She, Aline Rodney, who, such a little, little while ago had been a willful, thoughtless child, was married! She was no longer Miss Rodney--she was Mrs. Delaney, and in a short while she would be a widow. How strange, how dream-like it all seemed.

She turned suddenly and looked at her bridegroom. He was regarding her with a wistful yearning in his beautiful dark eyes. At the same moment Effie whispered in her ear:

“Your husband would like to kiss you, darling.”

She went to his side and bent her head so that he might kiss her cheek. He pressed his mustached lips softly against it, whispering, fondly:

“Thank you, and God bless you, my wife.”

And then the dark head fell and the eyes closed. For a minute they all thought that he was dead, for no breath or pulsation could be detected. Mr. Rodney was in despair.

“Oh, this is too dreadful!” he cried. “I had hoped that he would rally, that God would spare his life, and that I might be saved the wretchedness of knowing myself a murderer. And you, too, my poor child, are a widow in the hour of your bridal!”