THE BRIDAL.
Millbank was ready at last for its new mistress. But few changes had
been made, and these in the library and the suite of rooms set apart for
the bride. Her tastes were simpler than Bell’s, and some of the gorgeous
trappings had been removed and soberer ones put in their place. The
house at Schodick had been despoiled of a portion of its furniture,
which now formed a part of Millbank; Jessie’s picture and the candle-box
cradle were both brought back, and Hester had the little quilt safe in
her trunk, and had bought a new gray satin dress for the wedding party
to be given at Millbank, September 15th, the day after the bridal. The
idea of gray satin Hester had gotten from Mrs. Penelope Seymour, who
came to Millbank to see that everything was as it should be for the
reception of her niece. She had stayed three days and nights, and Hester
had admired her greatly and copied her dress, and had it made in
Springfield, and fitted over hoops and cotton, and then tried to fix up
Aleck into something a little more modern. But Aleck was incorrigible,
and would wear his short pants and cowhide shoes tied with leather
strings, and so she gave him up, and comforted herself with the fact
that he stayed mostly in his room, and would not run much risk of being
laughed at by the “grandees” expected with the bridal party from New
York.
Roger had already gone to Beechwood, where Magdalen was waiting for him.
It was his first visit there, and there were strange thoughts crowding
upon his mind as he rode up the mountain side toward the house which had
been built for his mother, and whither she once hoped to come as a
bride. Now she was dead, her grave the ocean bed, her shroud the ocean
grass, and he, her son, was going for his bride, the daughter of Arthur
Grey. “Surely the ways of Providence are inscrutable; who can know
them?” he said, just as a turn in the road brought the house and grounds
fully into view, together with Magdalen, who, in her evening dress of
white, was standing on the piazza, her face glowing with health and
beauty and eager expectation. Very joyfully she received him, and
leading him into the house presented him to Alice and her aunt, and then
went for her little nephew, whom she brought to his “Uncle Roger.”
They were a very merry party at Beechwood that night, and not a shadow
rested on the hearts of any one. It was better that Laura should be
gone, better for her, better for them all; and when Magdalen saw how
white Roger turned at the sight of her father’s picture, she felt that
it was well perhaps that he, too, was dead, for the two men could not
have been wholly congenial to each other. The bridal was the next day
but one, and Magdalen in her plain travelling dress was very beautiful,
as she pledged herself to the man whose face wore a look of perfect
peace and thankfulness as he clasped her hand and knew it was his
forever. He made no demonstrations before the people, but when for a
moment they were alone, as she went up for her hat and shawl, he opened
his arms to her, and clasping her tightly to his bosom, showered his
kisses upon her face and hands and hair, and called her his precious
wife, his darling, won at last after many years of sorrow.
They went to New York that night, and the next day arrived at Millbank,
with Mrs. Seymour, Guy, and Alice, and a few friends, the Dagons and
Draggons, whose quiet, unostentatious elegance of manner created quite
as great a sensation as Mrs. Walter Scott’s more showy guests had done
when her son was the groom and Bell Burleigh the bride. Roger had given
his men a holiday, and had ordered a dinner for them upon the Millbank
grounds, but he had not hinted at a demonstration or bonfire, and was
surprised when the New York train came round the bend in the meadow to
see the crowds and crowds of people assembled before the depot, some on
the fence, some on the woodpile, some on the platform, and all glad and
excited and eager to see him. The Belvidere Band was there also, and
preceded the carriage up to the house, which had never seemed so
pleasant and desirable to Roger as now, when he came back to it with
Magdalen, and felt that both were his beyond a possibility of doubt. Old
Hester received them, and no one but herself was allowed to remove the
bride’s wrappings, or conduct her to her room. Hester was in her
element, and Mrs. Walter Scott never bore herself more proudly than did
the old lady on that eventful day, when she seemed suddenly to have
grown young again, and to be in every place at once, her cap-strings
flying behind her, and her black silk pinned about her waist. The gray
was reserved for the evening, when, instead of a party proper, to which
a few were bidden, a general reception was held, which all were welcome
to attend. There was a great crowd, for rich and poor, old and young,
plebeian and aristocrat, came to pay their respects to the newly married
pair; but not a rude thing was done, or a rough word spoken by any one.
Roger, himself, did not know them all, and Magdalen only a few; but her
greeting was just as cordial to one as to another. Her travelling dress
had been very plain, but this evening she was radiant in white satin and
lace and pearls, with the bridal veil floating back from her head, and
the orange wreath crowning her shining hair; and those who had never
seen such dress and style before held their breath in wonder, and for
months after talked with pride of the night when all the town was
permitted to see and shake hands with the sweet lady of Millbank, Mrs.
Roger Irving. Roger had forbidden a bonfire, but there were lanterns
hung in the trees all over the grounds, and the young people danced
there upon the floor which had been temporarily laid down, until
midnight was passed, and the moon was so high in the horizon that the
glare of lamps was no longer needed to light up the festal scene.
Mrs. Franklin Irving had been invited to be present, but she wisely
declined, and sent instead a most exquisite ring to Magdalen, who let
Frank put it upon her finger and kiss her hand as he did so, a privilege
he claimed because the ring was said to be _his_ gift and Bell’s. His
wife had conceded so much to him, though Frank had known nothing of the
ring until he saw it in its velvet box on his wife’s bureau. Unlike her,
he had no feelings of delicacy to prevent his being present at Roger’s
bridal party. With no business on his hands, and nothing to expect from
his wife besides his board, he was quite as willing to stay at Millbank
as in Boston, and seemed to take it for granted that he was welcome
there. And nobody cared much about his movements except Hester, who
wondered “Why the lazy lout didn’t go to work and earn his own vittles,
instead of hangin’ on to Roger. She vummed if she’d stan’ it much
longer. She’d set him to work if Roger didn’t.”
And so as time went on and Frank still lingered about the place, Hester
gradually impressed him into her service, and made him do some of the
things which Aleck once had done and which he was unable to do now.
Sometimes he brought water for her, or split her kindlings, or went to
the village on an errand, and did it willingly, too, though he always
wore his gloves, and generally carried his cane and eye-glass, which
last article he had of late adopted. It was Magdalen who finally
interfered and stood between Hester and Frank, and said he was welcome
to remain at Millbank as long as he chose, and that if Hester had not
servants enough another should be procured at once. This was the first
and only time that Magdalen asserted her right as mistress in opposition
to old Hester, who submitted without a word and ever after left Frank in
peace.
September passed quickly, and in the late October days, when the New
England woods were gorgeous with crimson and gold, and Millbank was
still beautiful with its autumn flowers, Mrs. Franklin Irving came up to
visit Mr. and Mrs. Roger, and was received by them with all the
cordiality due so near a relative. Not by a word or look did she betray
the slightest regret for the past, when she had been mistress where she
was now only a guest. Millbank was to her as any stranger’s house, and
she bore herself naturally and pleasantly, and made herself very
agreeable to Roger, and devoted herself to Magdalen, whom she liked so
much, and was civil and almost kind to her husband, who was still there,
and as Hester said, “just as shiftless as ever.”
Bell saw the state of affairs, and while she despised her husband more
than ever for his indolence and lack of sensibility, she resolved to
give Magdalen a rest, and leave her alone with Roger for a time; so when
in November she returned to Boston, she invited Frank to go with her,
and secured him a place as book-keeper in a merchant’s counting-house,
and stimulated perhaps by the perfect happiness and confidence she had
seen existing between Roger and Magdalen, tried by being kind and even
deferential to him to mould him into something of which she would not be
so terribly ashamed as she was now of the careless, shambling, listless,
lazy man, whom everybody knew as Mrs. Franklin Irving’s husband.