The Maiden CHAPTER 15.
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When it became known to Anna Lee, that her young friend, Florence, had accepted an offer of marriage from Archer — her heart was deeply troubled. When they met, and Florence delicately unfolded the truth to her, the words Anna spoke in reply seemed as if they would choke her. She could not utter congratulations, and she felt that she had now no right to object to the young man's character. Florence was his betrothed.
"I have a particular favor to ask of you, Anna," said her friend; "and I am sure you will not refuse me."
"What is it?"
"You will be one of my bridesmaids?"
Anna's eyes fell to the floor. How could she refuse her friend's request? And yet, how could she grant it? After thinking, hurriedly, for a few moments, and becoming sensible how intimately such a service to her friend would bring her into contact with a man from whom she shrunk with abhorrence, and who could not but feel angry with her, she looked up and said,
"I am sorry to refuse you, Florence, but it will be out of the question. I cannot act as your bridemaid."
"Why?"
Anna was again silent. What could she say?
"You must, Anna; indeed you must," urged Florence.
"No, my friend, I cannot do this," was the maiden's firm answer.
"It is because you don't like William," said Florence, a little warmly, her cheek reddening.
Anna did not reply.
"Speak out the plain truth, and name at once your reason. Isn't it as I say?"
"Suppose that were the reason, Florence — why should you wish to know it?"
"Because I do." Florence was losing command of herself.
"My dear friend," said Anna, with earnestness, "do not let a little thing like this cause you to feel unkindly towards one who has a warm affection for you; towards one who would willingly serve you in every possible way."
"It is not impossible for you to do what I have asked." Florence looked into Anna's face with compressed lips, as she made this reply.
"It is impossible for me to do anything that I think wrong."
"Wrong! Wrong to be my bridesmaid!" And Florence rose to her feet with a flushed face. "What do you mean by such words?"
"Enough has been already said, Florence," returned the maiden, with the tears starting to her eyes. "I do not wish to give you a reason for declining your request. Believe me that it does not arise from any indisposition to serve you."
"It is because you do not like Mr. Archer, then?"
Anna made no reply.
"Anna, I must and will have the truth! Tell me at once if that is your reason? Florence spoke in an agitated manner.
"I cannot withhold my reason, if you insist upon knowing it."
"I do insist."
"You have supposed truly."
"You don't like Mr. Archer."
"No, Florence, I don't. This you have always known. And it is for this reason that I am compelled to refuse your request."
"How can you be my friend — and not the friend of my husband?" Florence had a stern look, as she asked this question, and then moved towards the door.
"It must be as you say, Florence," was Anna's calm reply, although the tears were stealing from beneath her half-closed lashes. "I wish to be your friend — I love you as a sister; or, rather, let me say, as a wayward sister, whom I would gladly lead by better counsels than those she is following. The man you are about to marry, you well know, I do not like, and that I have good reasons for my feeling. I do not think he will ever make you happy. I wish, from my heart, you had declined his offer."
The exceeding tenderness of Anna's voice, as it pronounced the words "sister," and "wayward sister," caused the heart of Florence to tremble. Her momentarily excited anger subsided. She looked at the sweet, anxious face of her friend, and at the tears that were glistening on her cheeks. The appeal to all that was of the woman in her was too strong, and she rushed into the arms of Anna, and sank sobbing upon her bosom.
"O, my dear, good friend!" she murmured, as soon as her emotion had in some degree subsided. "I wish that I had your firm heart that beats so truly and warmly in the right place. I wish that, like you, I were free from weakness. That I could always do what my judgment dictates. I was angry with you but a moment since; no — no — Florence was not angry, it was her pride that was angry. She loves you as truly and as tenderly as she has ever loved you; and may that love never grow cold! But can you, will you still love me, and seek to guide my young heart as you have hitherto sought, but with so little apparent effect? I shall need your counsel — I shall need just such a friend. For in all soberness, Anna, I do not feel that I have done right in accepting an offer of marriage from William Archer. I do not believe that he will ever make me happy."
Anna shuddered, when her friend said this in a voice that was sadder than anything she had for a long time heard.
"O Florence!" And now Anna's tears gushed freely. "Why did you not pause and think before you took this fatal step? Why did you not pray for direction, before you spoke that one little word that involves the happiness and misery of a whole lifetime — nay, my dear friend, of a whole eternity?"
"Because I was foolish. But is not this worse than madness, Anna? I have consented to become his bride. The day is appointed, and, before three weeks have passed away, I shall be a wife! I dare not say a happy wife. But I must strive to be all to him that a wife should be."
"That is your duty, Florence. And if you will only strive to do a wife's part, looking up to God for assistance in all your duties, and for guidance in every trying circumstance, your marriage with William Archer, although in the nature of things it cannot, at first, be a very happy one — may be the means of elevating and perfecting your character. And still more, of elevating and refining the character of your husband. Although the ordeal may be to you a fiery one, it may prove in the hands of divine Providence, the means of accomplishing a great good."
"God grant that it may be so," murmured Florence.
A responsive "Amen," was all the sound that broke upon the air, and then a deep, deep silence followed.
From that time, Florence Armitage was a changed being. She had felt all she had expressed to Anna, over and over again, in the short space that had elapsed since her engagement to Archer; but the expression of her feelings gave them a fixedness and power. They now influenced her external acts, and were seen in the change wrought in her countenance and manner. Her observation had become more acute, and her feelings more truly impressible. She saw more distinctly than she had before seen, the true characterof Archer — and how little there was in it for a woman to love. She saw that he was selfish, had a violent temper, and was willing to sacrifice anything so that his own wishes might be gratified.
But what could she do? She had consented to become his wife. Had entered into a solemn contract with him, and she felt that she dared not violate it.
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