Livingston tried to remonstrate with him.
“I know what I am saying. The climate is murderous, to begin with, and there are many other dangers. It is better to be prepared. I have no friend but you.”
“Between us, Reuel, oaths are useless; you may count upon my loyalty to all your interests,” said Aubrey with impressiveness.
“I shall ask you to watch over Dianthe. I entrust her to you as I would entrust her to my brother, had I one. This is all I ask of you when I am in that far country.”
With open brow, clear eyes and grave face, Aubrey Livingston replied in solemn tones:
“Reuel, you may sail without a fear. Molly and I will have her with us always like a dear sister.”
Hand clasped in hand they stood a moment as if imploring heaven’s blessing on the solemn compact. Then they turned the conversation on the business of securing the position at once.
VIII
Reuel was greatly touched during the next three months by the devotion of his friend Livingston, whose unselfishness in his behalf he had before had cause to notice. Nor was this all; he seemed capable of any personal sacrifice that the welfare of Briggs demanded.
Before many days had passed he had placed the young man in direct communication with the English officials in charge of the African expedition. The salary was most generous; in fact, all the arrangements were highly satisfactory. Whatever difficulties really existed melted, as it were, before Aubrey’s influence, and Reuel would have approached the time of departure over a bed of roses but for the pain of parting with Dianthe.
At length the bustle of graduation was over. The last article of the traveler’s outfit was bought. The morning of the day of departure was to see the ceremony performed that would unite the young people for life. It was a great comfort to Reuel that Charlie Vance had decided to join the party as a tourist for the sake of the advantages of such a trip.
The night before their departure Aubrey Livingston entertained the young men at dinner in his rooms along with a number of college professors and other learned savants. The most complimentary things were said of Reuel in the after-dinner toasts, the best of wishes were uttered together with congratulations on the marriage of the morrow for they all admired the young enthusiast. His superiority was so evident that none disputed it; they envied him, but were not jealous. The object of their felicitations smiled seldom.
“Come, for heaven sake shake off your sadness; be the happy groom upon whom Fortune, fickle jade, has at last consented to smile,” cried Adonis. So, amid laughter and jest, the night passed and the morrow came.
After his guests had departed, Aubrey Livingston went to the telegraph office and sent a message:
“To Jim Titus,
“Laurel Hill, Virginia:—
“Be on hand at the New York dock, Trans Atlantic Steamship Co., on the first. I will be there to make things right for you. Ten thousand if you succeed the first six months.
It was noon the next day and the newly wedded stood with clasped hands uttering their goodbyes.
“You must not be unhappy, dear. The time will run by before you know it, and I shall be with you again. Meanwhile there is plenty to occupy you. You have Molly and Aubrey to take you about. But pray remember my advice—don’t attempt too much; you’re not strong by any means.”
“No, I am not strong!” she interrupted with a wild burst of tears. “Reuel, if you knew how weak I am you would not leave me.”
Her husband drew the fair head to his bosom, pressing back the thick locks with a lingering lover’s touch.
“I wish to God I could take you with me,” he said tenderly after a silence. “Dear girl, you know this grief of yours would break my heart, only that it shows how well you love me. I am proud of every tear.” She looked at him with an expression he could not read; it was full of unutterable emotion—love, anguish, compassion.
“Oh,” she said passionately, “nothing remains long with us but sorrow and regret. Every good thing may be gone tomorrow—lost! Do you know, I sometimes dream or have waking visions of a past time in my life? But when I try to grasp the fleeting memories they leave me groping in darkness. Can’t you help me, Reuel?”
With a laugh he kissed away her anxieties, although he was dismayed to know that at most any time full memory might return. He must speak to Aubrey. Then he closed her lips with warm lingering kisses.
“Be a good girl and pray for your husband’s safety, that God may let us meet again and be happy! Don’t get excited. That you must guard against.”
And Reuel Briggs, though his eyes were clouded with tears, was a happy man at heart that day. Just that once he tasted to the full all that there is of happiness in human life. Happy is he who is blessed with even one perfect day in a lifetime of sorrow. His last memory of her was a mute kiss and a low “God bless you,” broken by a sob. And so they parted.
In the hall below Molly Vance met him with a sisterly kiss for goodbye; outside in the carriage sat Mr. Vance, Sr., Charlie and Aubrey waiting to drive to the depot.
Reuel Briggs, Charlie Vance and their servant, Jim Titus, sailed from New York for Liverpool, England, on the first day of July.
The departure of the young men made a perceptible break in the social circle at Vance Hall. Mr. Vance buried himself in the details of business and the two girls wandered disconsolately about the house and grounds attended by Livingston, who was at the Hall constantly and pursued them with delicate attentions.
By common consent it was determined that no
