"What a pity that such a being should ever know the meaning of the
word sorrow. In one way, my darling, I can save you, in another I
cannot."
Mr. Verne was almost convinced that Cousin Jennie had supplanted
Marguerite, and he well knew the proud nature of the latter.
"Perhaps it is all for the best. My pearl could never outweigh all
difficulties like the self-reliant Jennie." Such murmurs escaped the
lips of the fond parent as he glanced up and down the long row of
figures balancing his accounts with a rapidity only acquired by long
experience and constant practice. But what of Marguerite?
The girl was not unhappy. She lived on cheered by her happy, dreamy
nature, and as it was far above that allotted to ordinary mortals,
it sustained her and kept her mind above all sordid thoughts.
"Time has laid his hand
Upon my heart, gently, not smiting it,
But as a harper lays his open palm
Upon his harp to deaden its vibrations."
CHAPTER XII.
EVELYN'S BRIDAL MORN--FESTIVITIES AT "SUNNYBANK."
. . . "To the nuptial bower
I led her blushing like the moon, all heaven,
And happy constellations on that hour
Shed their selectest influence, the earth
Gave sign of gratulation, and each hill,
Joyous the birds;" --_Milton_
Such is the glowing description of the appearance of nature on the
morn when, in the presence of God and the host of white-robed
angels, was celebrated the nuptials of our common ancestors--
nuptials whence sprang the ills of our humanity.
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