THE INTERRUPTED CEREMONY.
That night, a small steamer put in at a landing, not far from Mrs.
Oakley’s cottage, and a crowd of cheerful, richly dressed persons came,
in scattered groups, along the shore, chattering, laughing, and making
the sweet air joyous with merriment. There was one group quieter than
the rest, and over which a gentle serenity, almost amounting to sadness,
seemed to reign. This was the bridal party. George De Marke walked
gravely by his brother, leading the adopted son by the hand; and the
child now and then brought a smile to his lips, by his pretty surprise
at the number of persons who seemed to be visitors at his home.
At the right hand of the widow-bride moved the stately Mrs. Judson, all
smiles and condescension to the man whom, a few days before, she was
ready to crush into the earth with sovereign disdain. Her dress of
purple and gold brocade swept the grass with its rich folds, and she
wore her mantilla of old point as a queen displays the ermine of
royalty.
There was no bridesmaid, for Mrs. Oakley, in her heart, had resolved
that Catharine should occupy that position. She hoped to see her in time
to enter into all those explanations which would render the position
unexceptionable to her friend.
As they approached the cottage, the bride looked anxiously forward,
expecting to see Catharine coming forth to greet her; in this she was
disappointed.
The visitors, many of them, remained out-of-doors, for the evening was
delightful, and a pleasant breeze stole up from the water. Those who
preferred it came in-doors, and all around the dwelling, inside and out,
groups of happy people wandered to and fro, ready at any moment to be
summoned to the marriage ceremony.
Mrs. Oakley went to her room, a little nervous, and somewhat anxious
about the non-appearance of her intended bridesmaid. The chambermaid was
very busy, upon her knees, unpacking a trunk which contained the bridal
paraphernalia. There was a half sneer upon her face, as she unfolded the
snowy robe, and laid out the mist-like veil of Brussels’ point, with
which the bridal wreath was entwined, ready for the fair brow it was to
crown.
“What is this? two dresses, and white lace trimmings for both,” said
Jane, gruffly, laying the dresses side by side, across the bed.
“According to my judgment, one will be too many.”
Jane muttered the last words in her throat, as she stood eying the
bridal robes askance.
“Yes, yes,” said the bride, hurriedly, “the dress nearest you, wreath
and everything, is intended for Miss Barr. Send some one to say that we
are here, and tell her to lose no time, we shall be waiting for her. Of
course, you gave my invitations.”
The girl answered, that she had delivered both; and as she spoke, the
bride saw a smile, creeping, like a viper, across her lips.
“They will come, of course. Nothing has gone wrong, I hope.”
“Oh, it is a sure thing, ma’am; they’ll come.”
Mrs. Oakley had no time to regard the manner of this reply. She felt a
little uneasy at the absence of Catharine, more because it would delay
an exculpation of her lover, than from any doubt of her willingness to
accept the compliment she had extended in the invitation.
“Well, well, it is no matter,” she said, talking pleasantly to herself,
as Jane disappeared with the garments she had been directed to have
ready for the bridesmaid. “Of course, she will be confident that all is
right, or it would not have come to this. I wonder what dear, proud
mamma will say to my choice of a bridesmaid. At any rate, she must admit
her a lady in everything. Nothing but her refinement and gentle goodness
have made those old people regard her as a daughter of the house.
As the bride was arranging things thus cheerfully in her mind, the lady
mother came in, her purple silk rustling as she walked, and a cluster of
marabout feathers trembling like a handful of snowflakes, where it
fastened the frost-like lace of her elaborate headdress.
As Mrs. Judson came into the room, the chambermaid stole quietly out,
cautiously keeping her back toward that lady.
“Not ready yet,” cried the stately dame, drawing on her own white gloves
with deliberate gravity. “I have brought my maid to help you, child.
Come, come, begin at once, or you will be flushed, the most vulgar thing
that can happen to a person in your position. Be active,” she continued,
speaking to a woman who had followed her into the room, “do Mrs.
Oakley’s hair at once; I will stand by and direct you.”
Smiling and blushing a little, the bride placed herself in a seat, and
taking out her comb, allowed her raven tresses to fall in a torrent over
her shoulders. The toilet now commenced in earnest. Braid after braid of
those glittering locks was wreathed around her shapely head, as she sat,
with a rose-tinted dressing-gown gathered over the snow of her bridal
garments, while the woman adorned her person; and Mrs. Judson gave
directions, making herself more than usually gracious.
At length the lady’s maid had completed her work. Around that coil of
raven braids lay a garland of white roses, and as the bride stood up,
allowing the dressing-gown to fall in rosy masses around her feet, a
cloud of misty lace, touched as it were with traces of early frost,
rippled in transparent waves down the folds of her moire dress, sweeping
to the snow of her satin slippers. Thus the bride stood, lovely as a
dream, beneath the proud smile of her mother.
“But the bridesmaid! where is she?” questioned the elder lady, looking
at a clock upon the mantelpiece. “It is nearly time.”
“She will be here, I dare say,” answered the bride, stepping before the
dressing-glass, with a faint blush at her own exceeding beauty. “You
will like her, I am sure, mamma. She is so sweet and lady-like.”
“But you have not told me who she is, daughter?”
“Oh, she is one of the dearest creatures in the world, a sort of
protégé, or adopted daughter of Mrs. Ford’s, up at the old stone house,
yonder. Don’t be impatient, she will be in time.”
Mrs. Judson shook her head very pleasantly, for she was in high good
humor that day.
“Ah! I understand; some young girl, without advantages, that you want to
bring out. One of these days you will see how foolish such things are.”
Mrs. Oakley was about to offer some good-natured protest. But as she
turned to speak, they both heard a slight commotion in the upper hall.