PREPARATIONS.
The day after the ball Clarice returned from New York, and the following
morning several messenger boys were busy going from house to house with
the little square envelopes, the meaning of which the recipients knew
before they opened them, and read:
Mrs. James Percy
requests the honor of your presence
at the marriage of her daughter,
Clarice Isabel,
to
Mr. Paul Ralston,
on Thursday Evening, August ——, 18—,
at eight o’clock.
St Luke’s Church, Oak City.
Reception at Percy Cottage
from half-past eight to eleven.
There were 500 invitations gotten up in Tiffany’s best style, and the
larger proportion of them were carried from the island that day in the
mail to different parties. Comparatively few were invited in Oak City.
Could Paul have had his way and the church been large enough nearly
everybody would have been bidden to his marriage. But it was Clarice’s
prerogative to rule on this occasion, and when she struck name after
name from the list he gave her he acquiesced, for the most part,
thinking that after his return from his bridal tour he would come to Oak
City, open the Ralston House, which would hold hundreds, and invite all
the residents. Against this scheme Clarice did not protest, but merely
shrugged her shoulders as she fancied herself receiving the great
unwashed in the elegant drawing rooms of the Ralston House. She was very
loving and sweet to Paul, and he was very happy. Occasionally thoughts
of the moonlight waltz with Elithe crossed his mind as something he
could never have again or forget either. He did not see her now every
day, for, as Clarice stayed mostly at home after her cards were out he
in duty bound stayed with her. She, too, was very happy. Beautiful and
costly presents were coming in daily, with letters of congratulation. No
news had come from Jack, who had probably decided to stay in Samona. Her
bridesmaids were from some of the best families in Washington, New York
and Boston. The best man was Ralph Tracy. Paul was to give a supper to
his immediate friends at the Harbor Hotel on Tuesday night, and Mrs.
Percy was to serve an elegant little dinner to the bridesmaids on
Wednesday night. A caterer with colored waiters was to come from Boston.
He had already been and looked the ground over, deciding that a tent
must be erected by the side of the cottage for the better accommodation
of the guests. There was to be a canopy at the church and another at the
house. There were to be tons of flowers and forests of palms and ferns.
There were to be lanterns on the lawn and fireworks from a yacht
stationed off the shore. There were to be two bands, one outside and one
in for dancing. The Ralston House was to be illuminated from cellar to
attic, with an enormous flag floating from the look-out on the roof. The
church was to be elaborately trimmed, and white satin ribbons a finger
wide were to divide the sheep from the goats,—the lookers-on from the
invited guests. An organist from Boston was to preside at the organ, and
the bridal party was to be preceded up the aisle by a surpliced choir of
boys, trained and brought from Boston by the organist. This was
Clarice’s idea, as were most of the novel features of the wedding. She
should never be married but once, she said, and she meant to make the
most of it and give the people something to talk about and remember. And
they did talk, those who were bidden and those who were not,—the latter
naturally making invidious remarks against the Percys, whose antecedents
were thoroughly canvassed. Old Roger was dragged from his grave with the
white slave, whom some of the most disaffected changed into a black man.
Even the Ralstons came in for a share, and the Vulture, with its
smuggling captain and crew, were fished up from the watery beds off the
Banks of Newfoundland and paraded before the public. This gossip,
however, was put down by the majority, who confined their remarks to the
Percys.
Clarice rather enjoyed knowing that everybody was discussing her and her
affairs. The favored few were in a flutter of excitement and expectancy.
Those who had not been sure of an invitation and consequently were not
ready with the wedding garment were greatly agitated. Trips were made to
New Bedford and Boston, fashions discussed, goods priced, dressmakers
interviewed and employed, last year’s finery looked over to see if it
would do, and the question often asked of each other when they met “What
are you going to wear?” Miss Hansford knew exactly what she and Elithe
were to wear. There had been no attempt on the part of Clarice to leave
the latter out, and two cards lay conspicuously on the centre-table in
Miss Hansford’s best room. Folded carefully in the trunk in which they
had come from Boston were the gray silk and the white muslin, Elithe’s
dress and her aunt’s. Once after the invitations came they were taken
out and tried on to make sure everything about them was right. Elithe
told her aunt she looked like a queen, and Miss Hansford thought Elithe
looked like an angel. Their dresses were ready and satisfactory. They
had nothing to do but to wait for the great event, written about in the
papers and anticipated by every one in Oak City.
And while the gossip went on and the interest increased, over the
mountains and across the prairies of the West a train Eastward bound was
speeding on its way and coming nearer and nearer to its destination and
the scene of the tragedy which was to electrify the surrounding country
and change the marriage bells into a funeral dirge.