EPILOGUE.
For three months the life of Innis
seemed suspended by a hair, which the
hand of a child—the least breath—would
break.
His wound then began slowly to heal,
and, in the last days of May, he rose,
pale, thin, and tottering, from his bed,
entering the world thus once more, as it
were, from the postern of the grave.
Honoria had completely recovered
from her wound some time before; and
the terrible events of her wedding-night
began to relax their painful hold upon
her mind. She looked back now to those
events as to a fearful dream, from which
she had awakened; and the May sunshine
saw the roses once more blooming
in her cheeks.
That she and Innis were married in
due time, we need scarcely assure the
reader. Of the will of Colonel Seaton
there was no question at all. Colonel
Brand had duly recorded it in the proper
court, surrendered Rivanna to Innis,
gave him the hand of Honoria—and all
lived in peace and harmony under a single
roof.
On the night of Honoria's marriage
to Innis, Miss Lou Brand bestowed her
queenly hand upon Mr. Phil Cary. It
was a happy double wedding, and even
Mrs. Cary, who was present, and in the
seat of honor, was overjoyed at the happiness
of her son.
Side by side, near the married couples,
stood two persons who have frequently
appeared in this history—Meta
and Dr. Vandyke.
With the termination of the tragedy,
so long overshadowing Rivanna, Meta
had begun to recover her strength, and
to regain the roses in her cheeks. It
seemed a miracle, this return to life, and,
what was far better than life, the blessed
light of reason. No more, now, a subtle,
scheming, mad girl, burnt up by a
morbid jealousy, but a gentle and tender
woman, moved by all sweet influences
and kindly emotions, Meta stood beside
Honoria, as one of her bridesmaids, smiling
and beautiful—in her dark curls the
spring flowers she thought she should
never more see.
And Dr. Vandyke—the cynical, bitter,
large-hearted, profound, and clownish
personage—Dr. Vandyke had come
all the way from Williamsburg to be
present at the wedding, which he had
contemplated with a grin, and spiced
with an allusion to Mrs. Snuffers, a venerable
personage, whom he believed to
be bent on marrying him. As the night
drew on, and the long hours fled by like
birds into the darkness, the wit and
satire of Dr. Vandyke sparkled more and
more.
Beside the great punch-bowl, and occasionally
waving the ladle around his
head, he resembled some eccentric goblin,
and there was something weird
about his laughter. But, toward midnight
this merriment disappeared—the
face of this strange man grew deeply
sorrowful. With his eyes fixed upon
the great clock, whose hand approached
twelve, the doctor fell into a reverie, and
sighed.
Phil Cary laid a hand upon his shoulder,
and cried:
“What are you thinking of, doctor?”
Dr. Vandyke uttered a deeper sigh
than before.
“Poor Ruthven!” he muttered.
THE END.
