THE FATAL WEDDING.
But she carried her point, after all, and a few of her companions at
the factory--Sadie Allen, Belva Platt, Mrs. Jones, the forewoman, and
a few others--were specially invited, and Fair delivered to each a
message from Mr. Lorraine to the effect that they would be conveyed in
carriages from the church to his residence.
The carriages were really there, and so were the bridal party--Fair in
a simple white dress and hat such as a pretty girl may wear to church
any Sunday, and the invited guests all in gala attire, and on the
tiptoe of expectation. The groom looked pale and grave, but remarkably
handsome, in his black suit, and Fair felt him tremble perceptibly
as he drew her hand through his arm and led her before the waiting
minister, who, with the short, simple ritual of the Baptist Church,
soon made them one.
Mrs. Fielding was beaming with pride and pleasure. She felt that her
aim was accomplished. With all her disadvantages, she had married her
daughter off as well as any scheming society mamma. She drew a sigh of
relief at the thought that there was no more work for beautiful Fair,
nor herself--only luxury, ease, and pleasure, with jewels and fine
dresses.
She kissed her daughter most fondly, and followed the bridal party out
to the carriages that were waiting to convey them to the Fifth Avenue
mansion. She found herself placed in one with Mrs. Jones, Miss Platt,
and Sadie Allen as companions. As she was being borne through the
streets to her destination, she thought complacently:
“It is the last time I expect to associate with any of the factory
people except Miss Platt. I shall make an exception in her favor, as
she is the friend of my son-in-law, and as she, in a manner, helped
Fair to win him--as, but for her, we would never have known him. Yes.
I will invite her to Fifth Avenue sometimes, and I will try to make a
good match for her among some of George’s rich friends.”
The carriage came to an abrupt pause, and the driver appeared at the
door to help the ladies out. Mrs. Fielding glanced out at the narrow,
ill-lighted street, lined with rows of shabby tenement houses, and
exclaimed:
“Don’t get out, ladies. That is not Fifth Avenue. There is some
mistake, driver.”
“No mistake, mum. Gentl’man told me this street and number,” replied
the man; and Miss Platt, who had already sprung to the pavement, looked
back and observed:
“There certainly must be some mistake, but all the others have gone
into the house, so we had better follow them and find out what is the
matter.”
So Mrs. Fielding followed with foreboding curiosity, and Belva Platt
led them into a shabby, creaky, moldy old tenement house, and up two
illy lighted and steep staircases to the third story, where, in a small
room, they came upon an interesting tableau.
The room was poor and mean, but scrupulously neat, and the cane-seated
chairs ranged around the room had a forlorn company look, as had also
the table in the middle of the floor, which was generously loaded with
refreshments, consisting of stale pound cake, beer, oranges, bananas,
and a plate of candy. In this festal apartment, dimly lighted by a
flaring kerosene lamp, stood George Lorraine and his astonished bride,
with several of the girls whom he had invited to the wedding reception.
They had apparently just entered the room, and before any one else
could utter a word Mrs. Fielding burst upon the scene, exclaiming:
“Mr. Lorraine, why have we come to this house? Surely there must be
some mistake!”
Belva Platt laughed aloud, a malicious laugh that drew all eyes upon
her; and George Lorraine, who had suddenly grown very pale, and whose
frame was trembling with emotion, answered:
“No-o, Mrs. Fielding, there isn’t any mistake. This is my--my--home. I
have suddenly lost all my riches!”
Mrs. Fielding stood like a statue of despair, glaring at her
son-in-law, with his strange words ringing in her ears like the knell
of hope.
The pale young bride had heard, too. Whiter she could not grow, for she
had looked like a lily ever since she had left home to go to church,
and her lovely face wore a shadow very unlike that of a happy bride.
But at those words from her new-made husband’s lips, she started and
gazed intently at him, with a blank despair in her glance that was lost
on him, for his eyes were bent upon the floor, and, in place of his
usual jaunty, confident mien, he seemed dejected and abashed; and no
wonder, for a buzzing whisper of surprise sounded all around him from
the surprised guests, and above it all there echoed a low, derisive
laugh replete with enjoyment of the scene. It came from the lips of
Belva Platt, and her blue eyes glowed with ghoulish glee as she fixed
them on the pale, startled face of the hapless girl on whom she had
taken such a cruel revenge.
It pleased her to see the lovely, dimpled, childish face that had wiled
away Waverley Osborne’s heart looking so wan and wild and frightened.
Mrs. Fielding, who had been choking and gasping in the effort to speak,
after the shock of surprise she had received, suddenly turned her eyes
upon Belva, and said, sternly as her unsteady voice would permit:
“Miss Platt, I would like to know what amuses you? Is this a laughing
matter?”
Belva made her a mocking bow, and answered:
“Yes, madam, I find it very amusing.” Then she went off into a peal of
sardonic laughter, crying maliciously: “So the bridegroom has suddenly
lost all his riches--ha, ha, ha! What a good joke!”
Sadie Allen went up to her and roughly shook her arm.
“Belva Platt, behave yourself! You are acting like a crazy woman. Have
you no decency?”
But Belva shook off the remonstrating hand, and, laughing more wildly
than before, looked at Mrs. Fielding. She saw that the pale bride had
glided to her mother’s side, and was clinging to her with trembling
hands.
“Mother,” she faltered, “you will make them explain, won’t you, dear?
This is horrible! She frightens me with her laughter; it has such a
dreadful sound.”
“Yes--what does it all mean?” exclaimed Mrs. Jones curiously. “Why,
I heard that Mr. Lorraine was rich, and that we were invited to
his wedding reception at a Fifth Avenue mansion,” and she glanced
contemptuously around the mean apartment, and then looked, with a
little feminine triumph, at Mrs. Fielding, the woman whom she cordially
despised for her aristocratic airs.
Sadie Allen came forward to the silent, half-dazed bridegroom, and said
curtly:
“Come, Mr. Lorraine, we want you to explain the meaning of this. You
have pretended to be rich all this time, and if you have fooled Fair
Fielding, why, I say you are no gentleman--that’s all.”
He looked up at her helplessly, and, with an appealing glance in his
dark eyes, muttered incoherently:
“I couldn’t help it! She made me do it. I was in her power. She
threatened----”
“She? Who is she? Not Fair? Not Mrs. Fielding?” exclaimed Sadie, and
before he could answer Belva Platt come up to them, and, dropping a
mocking curtsy, interposed defiantly:
“I am she! I planned it all. I made him marry Fairfax Fielding!”