The Argosy — page 249: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

232 A Story of the Sea-shore. “Not at the expense of your peace,” he returned, nearly choking with emotion, as he twined her fingers nervously within Lis. ‘Tt would be at the expense of my peace and my father’s too, if I did not. I will be your wife whenever you please, Tom,” And for the second time that day Miss Serena Moncton felt strange kisses on her lips. She ran up to her chamber and there sobbed out her perplexity and pain. Mr. Ernest Loraine was a man of sight feeling in the main. Finding she was absolutely engaged to this sailor, he brought his chivalry to bear, and quitted Transea. The next move in the drama was made by Serena’s father. Tom Reece was going out in com- mand of his own vessel for a month or six weeks’ voyage, and he, the father, said the wedding should take place before his departure. How Serena fought against it, her heart alone knew. Her entire love was Ernest Loraine’s, her esteem only her betrothed husband's. To marry bim at all would be dreadful; to marry him so soon, worse than death. She won over Tom to her side; sobbing and sizhing like a maid bereft. He could not withstand that; he only lived to please her. So, though Mr. Moncton held to his mandate, it was decided that the ceremony should take place only in the hour of Tom's departure. Bridegroom and bride they should be made; but they would bid each other farewell at the church door, and Serena would . go home with her father and live there unti! his return, when she would take up her proper abode in her husband’s home. In the mellow light of a September day, when the month was on the wane, Serena Moncton stood in the little church at Transea, surrounded by her father and a very few humble friends, stood hand in hand with Thomas Reece, and there they were made man and wife. A strange shiver shook her as he clasped her to his manly breast in the dusky porch, and left his parting kisses on her lips. ‘“My dear one! mine at last! You will betrue to me, Serena ; you will not forget me?” | ‘‘T will be true to you, husband, for ever and for ever. Forget you? No, there’s little fear of that.” His vessel, the B/uebell, and the tide were waiting for him, and he had to make the best of his way onwards; he could not linger. A small feast was prepared at Moncton’s and half-a-dozen village guests assembled to partake of it. The young bride could not swallow a mouthful: no wonder, said the women, when she had been obliged to part with her loving bridegroom. The day over and the people gone, Serena escaped to her room. There she breathed a long breath. A wife !—his wife! it all seemed like a horrible nightmare, At least for one month she was free: perhaps for a week or two over that: and after that she must—she mist make the best of things and pray to the good God to help Eomichbooks.co