CHAPTER XXII.
CONCLUSION.
Only a few weeks more passed before the hearts of the patient lovers were blessed in a union, auspicious of the highest happiness the human mind is capable of enjoying.
The marriage was celebrated by Mr. Carlton, in the presence of the family, and two or three particular friends, at the house of Mr. Townsend. On the next day, the bride, accompanied by her parents and sister, was taken to the new home which had been provided by her husband.
In this new home, Eunice had been for only a few minutes, when her eyes rested upon the beautiful instrument, the present of her brother, which she had sold in order to relieve her father in a pressing difficulty. It stood in her own parlor, and she knew it at a glance. Eveline also recognized it in a moment, but not a word was said, though both their hearts swelled with a new and grateful emotion.
When Eunice went up with Eveline to the chamber above, beautifully and tastefully furnished, they were still more surprised to find upon a handsome Chinese dressing-table, the watches, diamond pin, and bracelets, that had been sold, and, as the sisters supposed, parted with forever.
“Why, Eunie!” exclaimed Eveline, whose eyes first fell upon the jewelry, “how is all this? The piano below and these here!”
“You understand it all as well as I do,” said Eunice, in a trembling voice.
“It was Rufus, then, who bought all these articles at so fair a price.”
“So it appears.”
“And did you know nothing of it until now?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? It seems like a piece of romance. How did he know that you had offered them for sale?”
“I cannot tell, Evie. Heaven, I suppose, sent him word. From me he had no intimation of our design to part with them.”
“The good are doubly blessed. You deserve all this, and more, Eunie,” said Eveline, with affectionate warmth.
“Yes, Evie, the good are doubly blessed,” returned Eunice, caressing her. “The offer to sell this beautiful pin was the dictate of your own generous love for our father, and is rewarded. It is restored to you again.”
And she took up the pin and handed it to her sister; but Eveline shrunk back, saying,
“No, Eunice; it is not mine; you forget that it belongs to your husband.”
The countenance of the young bride fell, and for a moment she experienced a feeling of disappointment. But the voice of one who had entered with, but unperceived by them, dispelled instantly this shadow.
“Yes, Eveline, it is yours; take it,” said Albertson, coming forward.
Eunice turned quickly. She did not speak, but eyes and face were eloquent of thanks. Words could not have uttered them half so well.
A new day had broken on the mind of Mr. Townsend. He had seen his sun go down, and darkness, like the thick gloom of that old Egyptian night, gather around him. But, at the very midnight, when his heart was sinking with despair, the morning star came slowly up the horizon, and the mild aurora raised, as with the hand of an angel, the curtaining darkness. Day at last broke broadly and brightly, and the sun lifted his smiling disk above the eastern hills.
It was a new day. A clearer, brighter, happier day than the one that had set. May it grow brighter and brighter even to the “perfect day.”
Need we say more to assure the reader of the happiness of Mr. Townsend and his family? Need we follow them farther? Need we add sentence to sentence, and page to page, to show how salutary had been the misfortunes they had suffered, and how all were but blessings sent in disguise by the Giver of all good? No; this would be useless.
“Riches have wings.” That is, natural riches: not the true spiritual riches—not the treasure laid up in heaven. The one may escape from the hand, but the other lies like a dove with wings closely folded against the heart, and never flies away.