The Bride-Elect

She stands up her full height,
With her rich dress flowing round her,
And her eyes as fixed and bright
As the diamond stars that crown her,--
An awful, beautiful sight.

Beautiful? Yes, with her hair
So wild and her cheeks so flushed!
Awful? Yes, for there
In her beauty she stands hushed
By the pomp of her own despair.

--Meredith.

Judge Merlin walked about, reasoning with himself all day; but he could
not walk off his depression of spirits, or reason away his misgivings.

He returned home in time to dress for dinner. He crept up to his chamber
with a wearied and stealthy air, for he was still dispirited and
desirous of avoiding a meeting with his daughter.

He made his toilet and then sat down, resolved not to leave his chamber
until the dinner-bell rang, so that he should run no risk of seeing her
until he met her at dinner, where of course no allusion would be made to
the event of the morning.

He took up the evening paper, that lay upon the dressing-table by some
chance, and tried to read. But the words conveyed no meaning to his
mind.

"She is all I have in this world!" he sighed as he laid the paper down.

"Papa!"

He looked up.

There she stood within his chamber door! It was an unprecedented
intrusion. There she stood in her rich evening dress of purple
moire-antique, with the bandeau of diamonds encircling her night-black
hair. Two crimson spots like the flush of hectic fever burned in her
cheeks, and her eyes were unnaturally bright and wild, almost like those
of insanity.