If I am minute in recording all the occurrences of that evening, it is because every incident was so vividly impressed upon my memory; it was, in reality, the beginning of life for me. I felt that I had simply existed before. I danced and talked, but mechanically. A spell seemed to be upon me, wrought by the lilac gown. At last I slipped away from the crowd to the white-columned piazza. A few people were walking up and down its ample length, and some lovers were sitting in a remote corner, talking softly. Dewy roses brushed my gown as I descended the steps and strolled idly to the shadow of a large mimosa tree. A chair had been placed under it, and I sank down upon it. How calm, how cool the night! A mocking bird trilled drowsily in the tree above me, the river flowed between its low banks with gentle murmur, the stars shone afar in the depths of the sky. In the midst of the silence I heard a clock strike. I counted eleven strokes; and then, without warning, the scene suddenly changed from the starlit lawn to a sleeping-room altogether unfamiliar to me. It was luxurious, but curiously old-fashioned, with delicate blue and white hangings and quaint furniture. On a low couch lay a white satin gown, with a wedding veil thrown over it. An empty jewel case stood carelessly open, and some costly gifts were scattered about. Candles, set in slender silver candlesticks, burned on the dressing-table. Subdued sounds of life were borne faintly up from the lower part of the house, and through an open window flashed the lights from negro cabins. Then I heard footsteps on the stairs, soft laughter, and a winning voice said: "Good-night, Euphemia, good-night, and sweet dreams visit thee. We shall pray to the saints for sunshine on the bride to-morrow." The room door swung partly open. "Thank you, Melanie," said a low, clear voice in reply, and then the speaker entered, a young, lovely woman, clothed in shimmering lilac silk, with creamy roses on her breast, and pearls encircling her white, uncovered throat. She clasped her hands with a gesture of passionate, unutterable despair as the door closed, and in her uplifted eyes the anguish of death seemed to be mirrored. "Oh, I cannot go through with this mockery, this loathed marriage! Why, why are they all so blind, so blind? Hearts cannot be bought and sold; love is eternal. Oh, Herman, Herman, why could you not be worthy of my love?" She fell weeping and moaning to the floor, but quickly rose again. "I will go to father, I will tell him that I cannot be married to-morrow; oh, I will open all my heart to him. Surely he loves me more than his pride."