. Bear with her now.
She does not cry the cry of ordinary maidens in like cases. While the
struggle went on her tender face was brave; but, alas! Omens are against
her: she holds an ever-present dreadful one on that fatal fourth finger
of hers, which has coiled itself round her dream of delight, and takes
her in its clutch like a horrid serpent. And yet she must love it. She
dares not part from it. She must love and hug it, and feed on its strange
honey, and all the bliss it gives her casts all the deeper shadow on what
is to come.

Say: Is it not enough to cause feminine apprehension, for a woman to be
married in another woman's ring?

You are amazons, ladies, at Saragossa, and a thousand citadels--wherever
there is strife, and Time is to be taken by the throat. Then shall few
men match your sublime fury. But what if you see a vulture, visible only
to yourselves, hovering over the house you are gaily led by the torch to
inhabit? Will you not crouch and be cowards?

As for the hero, in the hour of victory he pays no heed to omens. He does
his best to win his darling to confidence by caresses. Is she not his? Is
he not hers? And why, when the battle is won, does she weep? Does she
regret what she has done?

Oh, never! never! her soft blue eyes assure him, steadfast love seen
swimming on clear depths of faith in them, through the shower.

He is silenced by her exceeding beauty, and sits perplexed waiting for
the shower to pass.

Alone with Mrs. Berry, in her bedroom, Lucy gave tongue to her distress,
and a second character in the comedy changed her face.

"O Mrs. Berry! Mrs. Berry! what has happened! what has happened!"

"My darlin' child!" The bridal Berry gazed at the finger of doleful joy.
"I'd forgot all about it! And that's what've made me feel so queer ever
since, then! I've been seemin' as if I wasn't myself somehow, without my
ring. Dear! dear! what a wilful young gentleman! We ain't a match for men
in that state--Lord help us!"

Mrs. Berry sat on the edge of a chair: Lucy on the edge of the bed.

"What do you think of it, Mrs. Berry? Is it not terrible?"

"I can't say I should 'a liked it myself, my dear," Mrs. Berry candidly
responded.

"Oh! why, why, why did it happen!" the young bride bent to a flood of
fresh tears, murmuring that she felt already old--forsaken.

"Haven't you got a comfort in your religion for all accidents?" Mrs.
Berry inquired.

"None for this. I know it's wrong to cry when