Since the above events scarce a fortnight had elapsed; but such
a change! Camille sunburnt and healthy, and full of animation and
confidence; Josephine beaming with suppressed happiness, and more
beautiful than Rose could ever remember to have seen her. For a soft
halo of love and happiness shone around her head; a new and indefinable
attraction bloomed on her face. She was a wife. Her eye, that used to
glance furtively on Camille, now dwelt demurely on him; dwelt with a
sort of gentle wonder and admiration as well as affection, and, when
he came or passed very near her, a keen observer might have seen her
thrill.
She kept a good deal out of her mother's way; for she felt within that
her face must be too happy. She feared to shock her mother's grief with
her radiance. She was ashamed of feeling unmixed heaven. But the flood
of secret bliss she floated in bore all misgivings away. The pair were
forever stealing away together for hours, and on these occasions Rose
used to keep out of her mother's sight, until they should return. So
then the new-married couple could wander hand in hand through the thick
woods of Beaurepaire, whose fresh green leaves were now just out, and
hear the distant cuckoo, and sit on mossy banks, and pour love into
one another's eyes, and plan ages of happiness, and murmur their deep
passion and their bliss almost more than mortal; could do all this and
more, without shocking propriety.
Pages:
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326