"I understand. You're a chip off the old block. You're just as stubborn as I am. And--I--won't--eat--my--words."
With firm hand, he drew away and hurried from the boat.
The Taylor clan of Kentucky gathered for the wedding in force. The romance appealed to their fancy. They loved their high-spirited, self-poised little kinswoman and they liked the tall, modest, young officer she had chosen for her husband. The stern old Colonel was not there, but his brother and his three sisters and all their tribe made merry at the wedding feast.
On the deck of the lazy river steamer, the bride and groom slowly drifted down the moonlit shimmering way to the fields of Mississippi.
The bride nestled close to her lover's side in the long sweet silences too deep for words.
He took her hand in his at last, and said tenderly:
"I've something very important to tell you now, my dear--"
"You have given up all for me," he went on evenly, "I'll show your father what I can do for you--"
"No. I have resigned my commission in the army. I have given up my career. We'll live only for each other now and build our nest in the far sunny South beyond the frost line."
A little smothered cry was her answer. And then her head slowly sank with a sob on his breast.
They built their home on the banks of the great river where the tide sweeps in graceful curve, all but completing the circle of an enchanted isle.
From the little flower-veiled porch through festoons of lacing boughs gleamed the waters of the huge curved mirror held by Nature's hand. The music from the decks of the steamers floated up on the soft air until music and perfume of flowers seemed one.
In the cool of the morning, on swift, high-bred horses, they rode side by side along the river's towering bluff and laughed in sheer joy at their foolish happiness. In the waning afternoon, hand in hand, they walked the sunlit fields and paused at dusk to hear the songs of slaves. The happiness of lovers is contagious. It sets the hearts of slaves to singing.
In the white solemn splendor of the Southern moon they strolled through enchanted paths of scented roses. On the rustic seat beneath a magnolia in full second bloom they listened to the song of a mocking-bird whose mate had built her nest in the rose trellis beside their door. They could count the beat of his bird heart night after night as he sang the glory of his love and the beauty of his coming brood of young.