The appointed day at length arrived—it was ushered in by no cheering omens from without or within the mansion of Mrs. Fairfax. No warbling songsters from the feathered tribes perched upon the window of our heroine, or hopped from flower to flower through the garden beneath, to woo her from her slumbers; and the heavens themselves gave lowering and sultry evidence of an approaching storm. In the east it was misty and unsettled; while a long curtain of dark frowning clouds, heavily charged with electric fire, hung in portentous masses along the whole line of the western horizon. The atmosphere was hot and oppressive, the whole aspect of the weather such as invariably casts a damp upon the spirits.

Virginia required no sweet serenade to call her from her slumbers. She was already awake, as indeed she had been through most of the night. A feverish dread of undefined approaching evil, had dimly floated through her excited brain during her waking hours, and yet more shadowy horrors disturbed her partial and unrefreshing sleep. Her morning habiliments were donned earlier than usual, without the assistance of her Indian attendant; yet she marvelled at her unwonted absence. She usually slept in an adjoining apartment, and hither Virginia bent her steps to chide the tardy maiden for her strange neglect on so important an occasion. No little surprise was visible in her countenance, when she found not only the apartment untenanted, but that the bed upon which Wyanokee usually slept, was undisturbed, or that if used at all, it had been slightly disarranged, only as if with a deceptive purpose. She repeated her name throughout the house and garden, but no answer was returned. Her voice soon aroused her mother, who was no less surprised at the circumstances related by her daughter. Together they went to the apartment, and again examined the bed, which had evidently not been slept in. And now other appearances struck them, which had not before attracted their attention. The dress she had worn on the previous day, hung in a closet answering the purposes of a wardrobe, together with the whole of her apparel, the gift of Virginia or her mother. Not an article could be recollected of these, which was not there. They seemed, moreover, to have been studiously arranged so as to attract attention in this particular. On the other hand, every garment of Indian fabric which she had preserved through her captivity, was gone. The moccasins she had worn on the previous day—the Indian beads, wampum, and other ornaments of native origin, were nowhere to be seen.

All the gifts of Bacon and Mr. Fairfax, some of which were of gold and silver, were conspicuously arranged upon a shelf in the same apartment. Many of these she had hitherto constantly worn in her ears, and upon her wrists and ankles.

As they were pursuing their researches Virginia discovered the window of the room in which her attendant had always slept, shut down upon the end of an Indian arrow. She raised the sash and drew in the missile, in the end of which, inserted in a split and bound with a strip of the fibre of a sinew, was the identical blue feather Wyanokee had plucked from the gory locks of the slain King Fisher, the last of the Chickahominy chiefs. The arrow was pointed in the direction of the nation's hunting ground. The language of these symbols Virginia understood but too well; she had too long made Wyanokee a subject of study, as well as of instruction, not to understand that the feather indicated her flight to the dwellings of her tribe. She also thought she saw many collateral indications in the time chosen for her elopement—the arrangements of her English garments, and more especially of the gifts she had received from Bacon. She doubted not in her own mind that the resolution of Wyanokee was in some way connected with the approaching ceremony, but she did not communicate her suspicions to her mother, because they were as yet not clearly defined in her own thoughts. They received momentary corroboration however, as many circumstances recurred to her mind, which were trivial in themselves, but important in connexion with the present discovery, and which have been from time to time hinted at in the progress of our narrative.

The impression left upon the mind of our Heroine by these incidents produced any thing but the joyous, elastic and happy mood, her young dreams had always anticipated for her wedding day. There were many other subjects of apprehension to mar the pleasures of the time. Governor Berkley had left her mother's house overflowing with wrath, and threatening speedy vengeance against her betrothed.

Few persons ever became indebted to Sir William Berkley in a matter of personal hatred or ill will, who did not sooner or later find him a hard and exacting creditor. With all her love for her uncle she knew his harsh and unyielding nature, and dreaded his power.

The natural apprehensions of a modest, gentle, and tenderly educated maiden on her wedding day, are at all times sufficiently powerful of themselves; but joined to the unfavourable omens and sources of anxiety by which Virginia was surrounded, they were overpowering. Her breakfast remained before her untouched, notwithstanding her mother's endeavours to cheer her drooping spirits.

A short and animated conversation with her lover, as the day began to wane, partially recalled her wonted cheerfulness, but when he was gone she relapsed into her former mood. The aspect of the heavens seemed to her to grow momentarily more portentous. Already the thunder was heard rolling in the west, and black masses of threatening clouds were gradually closing in from every point of the horizon. The wrath of Heaven itself seemed to our heroine gathering over the city. This nervous excitement of mind will not be wondered at when it is remembered that a short time only had intervened since dark and mysterious injunctions had been urged against the marriage, of which the appointed time was now so near at hand; and to this must be added the state of alarm and agitation in which she had since been kept by insurrections, outrages, personal strifes and deadly feuds between her friends; and above all, by the violent and sudden death of her father. In the short space of a few weeks her once tranquil and happy existence had been changed into one of painful trials and vicissitudes. The night was rapidly closing in. There hung the bridal garments, and there stood the tire woman waiting her commands. At this juncture a carriage drove up to the door, steps were let down, the knocker sounded, and in the next moment the gay brides-maid bounded into the room, arrayed for the occasion. Her countenance was radiant with smiles as she entered, but perceiving her friend's sombre mood she walked round her sundry times and then raised her hands and eyes in pretended astonishment, as she exclaimed, "Do I mistake! Was it indeed to your wedding that I was invited? For shame, Virginia! shake off these sickly fancies. Come, rouse yourself, and I will be your tire woman. Our family will soon be here, the carriage has gone back for them. Will that not move you? Then your lawful lord and"—

Here Virginia rose and placed her hand upon the lips of the lively girl, yet with a look which seemed at the same time to intimate no unwillingness to be cajoled or rallied from her present serious humour.

The wedding was to be kept a profound secret from all but the invited guests, and those who were to officiate at the ceremony. The former consisted only of Mr. Harrison's family, and the latter of the clergyman of the Established Church, who officiated at Jamestown—Charles Dudley who was to give away the bride, and Harriet as brides-maid.

The appointed hour of nine at length arrived. Assembled in the parlour below, the various parties awaited the appearance of the bride. Carriages were already at the door; the chapel lighted, and the priest habited in the robes of his sacred office.

Bacon, after sundry movements towards the door at which she was expected to enter, could subdue his impatience no longer, and at once mounted the staircase. He met the two maidens on their way down; Virginia apparently having imbibed some of her friend's spirit and vivacity, which she so much needed. She placed her hand timidly but confidingly in that of Bacon as they entered the room. Both she, and her attendant, were robed in virgin white—and certainly never were dresses more appropriate;—they were both young, innocent, beautiful, and intensely interesting, in the position which they now occupied.

Bacon and Dudley were dressed exactly alike, and rather in the costume of the preceding, than of the present reign; the latter not yet having made its way to Jamestown. They wore doublets of scarlet velvet, with large loose sleeves slashed up the front; the collar covered by a falling band of the richest point lace, with a vandyke edging. Their breeches were of white silk, and fringed at the bottom, where they united with their silk stockings, amidst a profusion of ribands and ornaments of lace. Their shoes were ornamented over the buckle straps, with white bridal roses wrought in silk. Hanging gallantly upon one shoulder, they wore the short and graceful blue cloak of the period: not in such a manner, however, as to conceal in any degree the gay appearance of the costume which it completed, but so as to be thrown aside and resumed at a moment's notice. This latter article being light and graceful, and worn more for ornament than use, was always thrown aside for the military buff coat on warlike occasions.

The party, preceded by the priest, entered the waiting vehicles. Just as they were seated according to the order of previous arrangement, a vivid flash of lightning shot athwart the horizon, succeeded by a crash of thunder loud and fearful, as if the eternal hills themselves had again been shattered into chaos. The females drew themselves into the corners of the carriage, covering their eyes, and the gentlemen were silent, while the God of the Universe, spoke through his thunders.

The drive to the church was as short as it was silent. The priest entered his desk and laid open the sacred volume, while the various parties arranged according to order in a semicircle round the altar, waited upon his words.

The chapel was dimly lighted, except immediately around the parties, in accordance with the strict privacy of the celebration. Mrs. Fairfax was as calm and benignant as was consistent with her usual settled melancholy. Virginia was pale as a marble statue, her head just sufficiently inclined forward to suspend her bridal veil in graceful and flowing folds before her exquisitely formed figure. Harriet's vivacity was subdued to respectful and mute attention. The sound of the clergyman's voice could just be heard at intervals between the awful peals of thunder, while the lurid flashes contrasting with the feeble rays of the lamps, rendered the surrounding gloom more impressive. The words which fell from the lips of the sacred functionary were something like the following:

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this company, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy matrimony; which is an honourable estate instituted of God in the time of man's innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his church; which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence and first miracle that he wrought in Cana of Galilee; and is commended of Saint Paul to be honourable among all men; and therefore is not by any to be enterprised or taken in hand unadvisedly—lightly, or wantonly—to satisfy men's carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in fear of God, duly considering the causes for which matrimony was ordained.

"First, it was ordained for the procreation of children to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy name.

"Secondly, it was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication, that such persons as have not the gift of continency might marry and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ's body.

"Thirdly, it was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort that the one ought to have of the other—both in prosperity and adversity.

"Into which holy estate, these two persons present come now to be joined. Therefore if any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace."

A solemn silence prevailed through the dimly lighted aisles, as the usual pause was allowed for the answer. At this juncture, and while the small party around the altar held their breath in mute astonishment and wonder, the door was rudely thrust open, and a gigantic figure strode down the hollow sounding aisle. His heavy footfalls rung upon Virginia's sensitive organs like the funeral knell of departed peace. He walked directly towards the altar, until he stood immediately behind the youthful pair about to plight their faith, his tall figure towering far above their heads.[5] Over his face he held a black mask, as he thus spoke, in answer to the general challenge of the priest.

"Well mayest thou say that now or never is the time to speak the just cause which interposes to prevent the consummation of this union. That cause know I. But its revelation, now rendered imperative, will be like unto tearing up with irreverent hands the mysterious secrets of the charnel house beneath our feet. Oh God, why could not this duty have been spared to me!"

His huge frame shuddered with convulsive emotion as he paused and seemed to view from beneath his mask his astounded and breathless auditors. The clergyman seized the opportunity to repeat with solemnity the challenge. "If any man can show any just cause why this youthful pair may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace!"

"They cannot lawfully be joined together because they are the children of the same mother!"

The silence of death prevailed throughout the chapel. Respiration and reflection itself seemed suspended upon the awful announcement of the Recluse, while he fell back upon one of the seats of the aisle and covered his face with his hands in unutterable anguish.

Mrs. Fairfax had been visibly agitated from the first moment of this startling interruption, by some more dreadful emotion than the surprise and vague alarm of those about her, but now desperation itself nerved her sinking powers, as she stepped a pace forward and uttered in a distinct voice. "It is false! proceed with the ceremony." Harrison and Dudley instinctively felt for their arms, the former exclaiming, "He is mad—staring mad! be it our business to prevent this irreverent interruption!"

But the Recluse immediately sprung upon his feet, throwing his mask upon the floor as he stood full in front of Mrs. Fairfax, and exclaimed, pointing with his index finger to his time-worn countenance; "Look thou upon these long forgotten lineaments, and then upon these (laying his hand upon Bacon's head) and testify before Heaven and earth whether I have not spoken truth! a fearful truth!"

The person appealed to stood for some moments like a statue, her eyes protruding from their sockets, as if a tenant of the grave indeed stood before her—her hand at length slowly rose from her side and wandered through the vacant air as if she would have submitted the spectre to the test of feeling—imperfectly measuring the distance however between her own person and the object sought, it fell again powerless by her side. Her lips moved as if she were in the act of holding a conversation with the being who had addressed her, but no sound issued from them. The pupils of her eyes were painfully distended, and their whole expression wild and bewildered. At length her chest began to heave convulsively, when she made a wild and desperate effort to rush upon the object of her gaze, but fell prostrate on the floor before she had attained half the distance between them. As she fell she cried in the most piteous accents, "Charles! Charles!" and then swooned away.

Charles Dudley, who had till now assisted Bacon in supporting his fainting bride, resigned his charge to Mr. Harrison and ran to Mrs. Fairfax, supposing himself to be the person thus piteously apostrophized. He took the fallen lady in his arms and raised her partly from the floor, but no symptoms of returning animation were visible. While he thus supported her head upon one knee, kneeling upon the other, assisted by the clergyman and friends, and Bacon and Mr. Harrison supporting Virginia, who was in little better condition, a tumultuous crowd rushed in at the door, headed by Sir William Berkley himself, exclaiming to his minions, "Tear him from the altar! tear the upstart from the altar."

But as he ran with his drawn sword towards the pulpit, something in the attitude and expression of the various parties at once arrested his hand and voice.

There is a power of expression in deep and irremediable sorrow which cannot be looked upon without emotion. Boisterous and outrageous as Sir William Berkley had entered the chapel, his fierce nature was instantly subdued by the appearance of his sister-in-law and her daughter. The crowd which followed were instinctively awed into silence by the same powerful and speaking appeals.

When the announcement of the lawful cause which prevented the consummation of the union first fell upon Bacon's ear, his head sank upon his breast, and although he mechanically clasped Virginia round the waist, as he felt her clinging to him, and sinking at his side; he stood stupefied with horror, holding up his lifeless burden, entirely enable to think or act. His habitual and superstitious reverence for every thing uttered by the Recluse, induced him to receive the first impression of his words unchallenged even in his own mind.

By the time that Sir William Berkley and his party arrived, the Recluse had disappeared; every one was so much absorbed by the instant and pressing calls for assistance and sympathy from the suffering females, that the time of his departure was entirely unnoticed.

The Governor had no sooner recovered from his first shock and surprise, than he made his way to one of the young Harrisons to learn the cause of the present appearance of the parties, so different from what he had been taught to expect. Although he did not believe that there was one word of truth in the cause assigned for the interruption of the ceremony, he was well enough satisfied that the parties themselves, and Mrs. Fairfax should believe it. No matter to him what horrors they suffered, he considered it all but a just punishment for their attempted mesalliance. As for Bacon, and his horror-stricken feelings, Sir William did not deign to bestow a thought or word upon them, after the first hasty exclamation with which he had entered the door. By his orders, the female sufferers were placed in a carriage, and removed to his own house. Bacon resigned his charge with a listless apathy, bordering on stupefaction, and to a superficial observer, such would doubtless have been the impression; but his was the deadly deceitful calm which precedes the coming storm. The most horrible of all human sufferings is that where no tear is or can be shed—where no enemy presents himself for vengeance—no hope for the future, all having been perilled and lost upon a single throw. Bacon felt himself thus situated—the cherished hopes of a lifetime were blasted in an instant, not only for the present, but under such circumstances as to cut off all hope for the future. The object of his passion could not henceforth be enshrined in a holy secret worship of the soul, such as is sometimes kept up through a long life of celibacy for the lost one.

No mortified pride arose to his relief! he could not hate—he dared not love the object around which his whole heart and soul were entwined. The very light of his eyes—the sun of his existence—his delights of the present—hopes of the future—all, all were blotted from existence in a moment. The very retrospects of the past were poisoned. Could he bear to dwell upon the enrapturing delights of their young loves, when the object and participator was now discovered to be his own sister? To whichever aspect of the case he turned, he as speedily revolted in horror. It was while these things were tearing and racking his soul, that he appeared to feel externally less than might have been expected. His mind and feelings were precipitately rolled back upon their own resources, and the suddenly dammed up waters of bitterness sought vent at every avenue. Virginia was no sooner taken from him, however, than his perceptions seemed roused at once to the full horror and hopelessness of his fate. Without his castor, and still decked in his gay bridal attire, he burst from the crowd, prostrating the Governor's minions to the right and left, as he felled a passage to the door. His eye had lost its abstracted expression; it was deadly fierce and terrifically wild as he rushed forth into the kindred storm without—no one knew whither.

END OF VOLUME FIRST.