(_Aside_.) He shall have no hint
from me this day of "_altered fortunes_." As though these weary years
had been but last night's dream, and my wedding-day had come as it was
fixed, so will I meet him.--Yet I thought to have worn my shroud sooner
than this robe.
_Jan_. This silk would stand alone, Ma'amselle,--and what a lovely white
it is! Just such a bodice as this I saw my Lady Mary wear, two years ago
this summer, in Quebec; only, this is a thought deeper. But, Santa
Maria! how it becomes a shape like yours!
_Helen_. What a world of buried feeling lives again as I feel the clasp
of this robe once more! Will he say these years have changed me?
_Jan_. (_Aside_) I do not like that altered mien. How the beauty flashes
from her? Is it silk and lace that can change one so? Here are bracelets
too, Ma'amselle; will you wear them?
_Helen_. Yes. Go, look from the window, Janette, down the lane to the
woods. I am well-high ready now. He will come,--yes, he will come.
(_Janette retreats to the window,--her eye still following the lady_.)
_Jan_. I have seen brides before, but never so gay a one as this. It is
strange and fearful to see her stand here alone, in this lonesome house,
all in glistening white, smiling, and the light flashing from her eyes
thus.
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