WEDDING BELLS.
"To begin with, girls, this is Fluffy's idea, not mine! Of course none
of you ever saw our Hildegarde, so I didn't suppose you would care
particularly; but when I was telling the Fluffy last night, she said it
was selfish and all kinds of things to keep it to ourselves, and that
you must all hear about it; so if you don't find it interesting, pull
out the Fluffy's feathers, not mine.
"Hildegarde Grahame--she is Hildegarde Merryweather now, but I cannot
realise it yet--has been a very dear friend of ours for several years.
We think there is no one like her in the world; I'll show you a picture
of her by and by. Well, a year ago she became engaged to my uncle."
"Your uncle!" cried the girls. "Why, I thought she was a girl!"
"So she is a girl, but Roger--well, he is my uncle, but he isn't so very
much older than I am. That is--he is twenty-five, and Hildegarde is
twenty; so you see it is just exactly right. There isn't anybody like
him, either. He is as near an angel as a man can come and be alive; and
he is tremendously clever, really eminent already in his profession, and
we all love him to distraction."
"Is he handsome?" asked Viola Vincent.
"I don't know; yes, I think he is. Not a barber-shop beauty, though. He
is tall, and very strong, broad-shouldered, with the kindest eyes in the
world, and a smile that makes you crinkle all over with pleasure. Well,
and so they were engaged, and now they are married; the wedding was on
Wednesday, and this is Friday, and here I am. Now I'll begin at the very
beginning of the day. Of course we woke up early, and looked out of the
window; and it was all gray and cloudy. I thought it was going to rain,
and I was in the depths, but Bell--you know Bell, my sister, at
college--was sure it would clear before seven, and so it did. The sun
came out bright and clear, and soon we saw that it was going to be the
most beautiful day that ever was. We had been out in the fields all day
before, getting flowers, and we had them all ready in tubs and bowls and
pitchers; so after breakfast we could go right to work on the
decorations. We did the church first. It is a pretty stone church, with
a good deep chancel. We filled in the back of the chancel with great
ferns--mostly evergreen ferns, so that they would not wilt--and palms
and things; and then we made banks and banks of asters and
goldenrod,--oh, it was lovely! Most of them came from the camp-pasture,
Bertha; you remember how lovely it is in September."
Bertha nodded. "I should think I did!" she said. "Most beautiful place I
ever saw, except the rest of it all."
"Well, I never saw it look more beautiful than that day before the
wedding, when Bell and the boys and I rode out on our wheels, and came
back by moonlight, with great bundles of purple and gold tied on our
backs and nodding over our heads. But all the ferns and the asters and
chrysanthemums and roses came mostly from Hildegarde's own garden at
Braeside, and from Roseholme, Colonel Ferrers's place. We might have
carpeted the church entirely with asters, if we had wanted to; as it
was, we had great garlands of them twined over the chancel rail and
swinging among the ferns and goldenrod; really, I never saw so many
flowers at one time in my life. When that was all done we went to the
house, Braeside, the Grahames' house, to see if we could help there; but
Mrs. Flower, a friend of Hildegarde's, of whom we used to be the least
little bit jealous before we knew her, was there, and another friend,
Miss Desmond,--she was one of the bridesmaids,--and they had everything
so beautifully arranged that there was nothing for us to do but stand
and admire it with all our eyes. People in New York had sent down all
kinds of splendid flowers, boxes and boxes of them, so that the house
was a perfect bower, and smelt like the Vale of Cashmere; but we knew
very well that Hilda would like our flowers best. Then--well, a lot more
presents had come since the night before, so as there was time enough
before dressing, we went in to see them. I don't suppose you care about
the presents, girls!"
"Oh! oh! we do!" cried the girls, in chorus. "We want to hear about
every single one, Snowy."
"My dears! it would take me all night, and then I couldn't remember them
all. But I'll try and tell you some of them. Let me see! Colonel Ferrers
gave her a set of sapphires; the most beautiful things you ever saw.
Necklace and pendant and pin, most wonderful dark blue stones, set in
star-shape. And Jack Ferrers and his father gave her some wonderful
Roman gold-work--I don't know how to describe it, I never saw anything
like it--that Jack picked up in Europe. Then there was silver, heaps and
heaps of it, from relatives in New York and I don't know where; some of
it very handsome indeed, but I don't care so much about silver, do you?
I remember there were ten salt-cellars, no two alike. But the things we
cared for were the small presents that came from people we knew; people
who loved Hildegarde, not just because she was their grandniece or
something, but because she was herself. Oh, some of them were funny,
girls! There were two dear old people who had come a long way to the
wedding, a Mr. and Mrs. Hartley, with whom Hilda spent a summer when she
was about fifteen, and whom she has been fond of ever since. I should
think she would be; the old lady has a face like Raphael's
grandmother--I can't think of any other way of describing it; and Mr.
Hartley is simply a duck, the dearest funny old man you ever saw. Well,
they brought Hilda the most beautiful toilet-set I ever saw or dreamed
of,--something wonderful, all blue dragons and gilding. Papa said it was
very rare; and Hilda cried when she saw it, and scolded them dreadfully
for bringing it away from its own room; but still she was delighted to
have it, and says she will never use any other. Then there was young
Doctor Chirk,--funny name, isn't it?--Mrs. Flower's brother. Such a
nice, bright, jolly fellow! Well, he was part of that same summer, it
seems, and he carved a beautiful frame out of wood that grew in
Hartley's Glen; and Mrs. Flower, who paints very well, had made a
picture of the glen itself--lovely place!--for the frame, or I suppose
the frame was made to fit the picture, no matter which; and _that_
filled her with joy.
"Then there were the people from Bywood. My dear, Miss Wealthy Bond is
the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, except two. She is just
like live Dresden china, smiling and dimpling; and the dear quaint maid
who came with her, Martha, had made Hildegarde's whole winter provision
of jellies and jams, because 'it wasn't likely Hildegarde would have
time herself this first season, and it wasn't a thing you could trust to
hired help in general.' Miss Bond herself had brought china--my dear!
did you ever see tortoise-shell crockery? Well, it is a most beautiful
thing, and the art was lost a hundred years ago, and each piece is worth
I don't know how much; but this dear old lady had a dozen plates, all
hexagonal, too, and not a single point broken or chipped, and two
pitchers,--well, I haven't the heart even to think of those pitchers, I
wanted them so,--and they were all for Hilda, because Hilda had brought
the sunshine back into her life, she told me.
"Girls, it was the same story everywhere. Mrs. Grahame being so
delicate, and Hilda so busy, Bell and I were there a great deal the few
days before the wedding, and we took the guests to walk and drive and so
on. Everywhere it was the same story, the joy and brightness and love
that this one girl had carried with her wherever she went. I never shall
forget it--never.
"Then--let me see--what next? Oh! I had nearly forgotten the dear little
boy, Benny, Miss Bond's adopted son. He considers Hilda his own private
property, and he was furiously jealous of Roger and everybody else. When
he first came it was quite sad, really, the child was so unhappy, and
there was no consoling him. He wanted Hilda to sing to him and play with
him just as she did when she was staying there at Bywood; and naturally
she couldn't, poor dear, though it was wonderful how she managed to be
with them all a little every day, and to see to almost everything, so
that her mother should have no care or worry. Well, where was I? oh! the
little boys. Hugh Allen, our Hugh,--I can't stop to tell you about Hugh
now, but he is the dearest, queerest little fellow,--Hugh watched all
this for awhile, and then he took Benny away with him, down into the
garden, and they were gone a long time. And when they came back Benny
marched straight up to Roger, and said, 'You are nice! you can have my
girl,' and then marched off again, and went and cried, poor lamb, till
Hugh comforted him.
"But I am not getting on with the presents, am I? We all gave her linen,
because she had to have that, and we wanted to do something ourselves;
so we, my mother and Bell and Kitty and I, hemmed every one of the
table-cloths and napkins, and embroidered the marks on all the towels,
and had a beautiful time over it. Mammy read to us part of the time
while we sewed, all the interesting weddings that she could find in
history or fiction, and that was great fun; then she wrote some funny
verses to go with them, and they really were lovely patterns, so it was
a nice present, though strictly necessary, you see. Oh, I haven't told
you about the diamonds! Helena Desmond was so funny about them! 'Hilda,'
she said, 'it was clear from the beginning that I must be offered up on
the altar of diamonds. I detest diamonds. They are absolutely
uninteresting; they are almost vulgar. Never mind, you have to have
some, and nobody else will be stupid and commonplace enough to give them
to you. I had hopes of your Aunt Emily, but she has expended herself in
lace, and was so happy over it that I hadn't the heart to whisper
"diamonds!" in her ear, as I had meant to do. Here they are, my child;
the customary horrors!'
"Well, they were very beautiful, though I confess I should have liked
pearls better for Hilda. A diamond crescent and star, really splendid.
She is very rich, you know."
"Is that the great beauty?" asked a girl.
"Yes, she is superb, certainly. Next to Hilda, perhaps--but I'll come to
that presently. Well, now perhaps I have told you half the things, or
rather more than half; but they are the things I cared most about, you
see. I can't go into a list of forks and spoons. So now I come to the
wedding itself."
The girls drew a long breath and leaned forward; presents were very
well, but weddings were better.
"It was at noon, of course. There were only two bridesmaids, Helena
Desmond and I. Hilda said she wanted only her nearest and dearest, so
she would not ask her cousins, though I fancy they had hoped to be
asked. She wanted Bell, but Bell said it was positively necessary that
she should play the organ, and so it was. We wore perfectly plain white
muslin gowns, but, oh, they were so pretty! with soft pale green sashes,
and little wreaths of ivy in our hair. Hildegarde wanted everything as
simple as possible, so we didn't go into hats, or any of that kind of
nonsense. Jerry--my brother Gerald--was best man, and the ushers were
Phil and Willy, my other brothers, and Jack Ferrers and Doctor Chirk and
Hugh Allen. Well, so the hour came.
"Helena and I were ready and waiting at Braeside when Hilda came
down-stairs. Girls, you never saw anything so lovely in your lives as
she was. Her dress was very simple, too, white embroidered muslin,
exquisitely fine. Colonel Ferrers brought it from India, years and years
ago, for a lovely young girl who died while he was on his way home. It
had been made in the house, and it looked just like her, as her dresses
always do. She wore a little gold pin that Roger made for her
himself,--mined the gold and all,--no other ornament, and a wreath of
white roses, roses that the Roseholme gardener had been nursing all
summer to make them blossom just at the right time. That was his
present; everybody wanted to do something, you see."
"What does she look like?" asked a girl.
"Well, you have to see her to know what she really looks like, for half
of it is the expression and the look in her eyes. Gray eyes, so clear
and true,--you know she couldn't say or do anything unkind or false to
save her life,--and a colour just like a wild rose, and a nose,--well,
it's just her own nose, tilted up a little, but perfectly delightful;
and when she smiles, you think she has the most beautiful mouth in the
world, though I don't suppose she really has. Here, this gives you a
little idea of her; just a very little, for it doesn't begin to think of
doing her justice."
The girls clustered eagerly to see the photograph, which was passed on
from hand to hand. It was a lovely face, indeed, at which they looked;
yet, as Gertrude said, the actual beauty was the least part of its
charm. Truth and kindness shone from it; not the lightest and most
foolish girl there but felt grave for a moment, meeting that steady look
of cheer and constancy.
"And yet she looks awfully jolly, too!" said one, breaking the silence,
and voicing the thought of all.
"My dear, she is more fun--"
"Than a goat?" asked a new voice; and Grace Wolfe slipped in quietly at
the window, and, nodding to the company, took her seat on the floor.
"I have heard all!" she said. "Go on, Snowy! I see now where you got
your virtues; this young woman has much to answer for."
Gertrude looked at her kindly, but said nothing; in a moment the story
went on.
"We walked over to the church--it is only a few steps--just as we were,
without any formal arrangement. Hilda held her mother's hand fast all
the time; they were both very quiet. The dear old black cook walked with
them, crying all the way. Hugh had Hilda's other hand. I--I can't tell
about this part."
Gertrude's voice faltered for a moment; then she went on more steadily.
"Colonel Ferrers was waiting at the church door, with his brother, Mr.
Raymond Ferrers. All the ushers were there, too, and we could see that
the church was full. And, oh! just a little way from the door was a band
of little girls, Hilda's sewing-class, and they all had baskets of
flowers, and scattered them in front of her as she walked. I forgot to
put that in where it belonged, but it was very pretty, and if you had
seen the way they looked at her!
"Well, then it all seemed to happen in a moment. Mr. Raymond Ferrers
took Mrs. Grahame up the aisle; and then the organ broke out with the
wedding march. I have heard my sister Bell play pretty well, but never
as she did then. It seemed to fill the whole world, and yet it was not
too loud, either. Then the ushers went up, and then Helena and I, and
then came our dear bride on Colonel Ferrers' arm. Roger was waiting at
the altar steps with Gerald. He came forward to meet her, and took both
her hands,--oh, with such a beautiful look in his face! and then drew
her arm through his, so proud and quiet and happy, and then the service
went on. They both spoke so clearly, everybody could hear them, and the
ring was ready, and there was not a mistake anywhere; only both Jerry
and the colonel were on the point of breaking down, both of them, and
every time the colonel blew his nose I could see Jerry start and wince.
And so they were married, and the music broke out again, and Roger put
back the veil and kissed his wife; and--and then they came back down the
aisle, and--and--and that is all!"
Gertrude had struggled hard for composure. She had nearly outgrown the
childish proneness to tears, which in early days had earned her the home
sobriquet of "Chelsea Waterworks;" but this recital touched her too
nearly, and she had overcalculated her power of self-restraint. Her
voice broke altogether, and she could only nod and smile through her
tears on Bertha, who was regarding her remorsefully.
"I ought not to have made you, Toots!" said Bertha. "I did want them to
hear it, it has been so beautiful. Don't cry, dear!" But Grace Wolfe
came and laid her hand on Gertrude's shoulder, and spoke in a tone one
hardly ever heard in that voice.
"Don't stop her!" she said, gravely. "Let her cry! It's good for
her--and for all of us! Snowy, your friend is a blessed creature, and
you are another."
No one spoke for a few moments. Peggy was crying quietly in her corner,
and feeling that she had been at the wedding herself, and wondering what
she should possibly do if Margaret should ever get married.
But now the Snowy Owl wiped away her tears in good earnest, and spoke in
her own cheerful tones.
"Come, this will never do. Girls, we have extra time to-night, Miss
Russell was so kind when I told her what I wanted to do; but even that
time will be up if we don't mind. Volunteers to toast marshmallows!"
Instantly there was a rush and a cry. A dozen hands were stretched out.
Hat-pins appeared, as if by magic, brandished on every side. In another
moment a dozen marshmallows were frizzling over the gas-jets, while the
student lamp did duty for several more. As soon as one was done, it was
popped, hissing hot, into an open mouth, and the hat-pin, charged with
another freight, returned to the charge. Cries of mingled joy and
anguish rose on every side.
"Oh, I am burnt entirely! The skin is all off my lips."
"Here, for me one!"
"No, she has had two already! Fluffy, my turn next!"
It was a merry Babel. The fun rose higher and higher. Peggy dried her
eyes, and looked on wondering. How could they hear each other? They were
all talking at once, each one faster than the other.
"My dear! Perf'ly fine, wasn't it? Oh, I do love to hear a tell--"
"When my cousin was married, she had eight bridesmaids, and they wore
just mob caps, not another thing--"
"Orange-blossoms are too sweet for anything, but they make some
people--"
"Simply pea-green, my dear, with fright, and she had blue woollen socks
on over her white slippers--'something blue,' you know,--and forgot to
take them off--"
"Her head, and you never saw anything like it in your life. It measured
three yards around, if it did--"
"A sunburst, you know, diamonds and pearls. I adore diamonds, for my
part. Why, to be married without diamonds would be--"
"Simply fierce! I should die, I know I should, before I got half-way up
the aisle. But to see one, and the music and flowers and all, is--"
"Dandy! perf'ly dandy! I wouldn't miss it for all the--"
"Flounces, my dear, up to the waist, as true as I sit here! and she said
'No!' She said: 'Before I'll be flounced to the waist, I'll--'"
"Marry a tin peddler! said there was nothing in the world she'd like
better, because then she could--"
"Sit still the whole morning without moving a muscle, for fear of
breaking her--"
"Heart, with forty pearls and sixty diamonds. Fact, I assure you, my
dear! I had it from--"
"A perfect brute, not fit for any one to--"
Here, Destiny knocked on the door; the round, rosy face of Miss Carey,
the housekeeper, looked in.
"Girls, you really must go to bed. Miss Russell sent me to say so. Do
you know what time it is?"
Grace Wolfe slipped like a shadow out of the window and was gone unseen;
the assembly broke up with laughter and cheers for the Snowy and the
Fluffy, and snatches of talk bubbling all the way along the corridor.
When Peggy reached her room, she found the Scapegoat already there,
sitting on the floor and chanting solemnly:
"I have nailed my Puggy's slippers
Down upon her closet floor.
She may pray with both her flippers,
But she'll never use them more!"