"Can you see nothing before you?" he asked.
"Mists, like drapery curtains, shade the days," I said: "What is it you
would have me find?"
"Find the month of June's dear roses,
Find a trellis and a vine;
Ask your heart, my queenly darling,
If the sun will on us shine,
And my heart, love's waiting trellis,
Then receive its clinging vine.
Have I spoken well and truly?
Does your soul like mine decide?
And, with June's dear wealth of roses,
Shall I claim you for a bride?
Do the old hills answer, darling?
Unto me they seem to say:
'Two young hearts in truth have waited;
Emily may name the day.'"
As the words of his impromptu verse died away, the moon, looking through
the rifted clouds, beamed an affirmation, and I said:
"Let June be the month, Louis; the day shall name itself."
Clara called: "It is nine o'clock, my dear ones;" and we said "good
night."
CHAPTER XVIII.
EMILY'S MARRIAGE.
Louis' birthday came on the 24th of June, and it seemed very appropriate
to me that this should be the day of our wedding, and, as I said to him;
the day named itself, and it also came on Sunday. I had no thought of
being married in the old church, but Louis was positive that it would be
best.
"You know," he said, "that all these good people around us feel an
interest very natural to those who are acquainted with everybody in
their own little town. They will enjoy our marriage in the church where
all can come and none be slighted, and the evening after they can be
invited to call on us at home.
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