"O FORTUNATE, O HAPPY DAY"
"O fortunate, O happy day,
When a new household finds its place
Among the myriad homes of earth,
Like a new star just sprung to birth,
And rolled on its harmonious way
Into the boundless realms of space!"
As though all that was loveliest had united to do her honor, and make the
boundary-line between the old and the new life one to be long remembered
by all who stood beside her at it, the day set for Miss Howard's wedding
was all that Lowell has written about it. It was as "rare" and "perfect"
as dear Mother Nature could make it for one of her loveliest children.
The girls had dressed the church, until it seemed a very bower of bloom,
and at every turn Miss Howard would find the posies of which she was so
fond. The three colors, if white may be called a color, chosen for the
bridesmaids' dresses were used in the decorations, and altar, chancel,
transept and aisles were brilliant with daffodils, narcissuses and lilacs,
which filled the church with their perfume.
The wedding was to take place at four o'clock, and when that hour arrived
little space was left in the church for the tardy ones.
Nearly all the girls had returned for the ceremony, and a bonnier lot it
would have been difficult to find than that which filled the front pews of
the church, for Miss Howard would have them all near her, insisting that
none of the other guests could possibly have the same loving thoughts for
her that her girls would have.
Promptly at the stroke of four the great organ rolled out its message to
all, and, after her few distant relatives had been conducted to their
seats, Miss Howard's bonny bridesmaids appeared, following another fancy
of hers by walking together, with the ushers leading. First came Edith and
Marie; Edith's yellow golden hair a perfect background for the big white
chip hat, with its masses of violets, and her fair, soft skin made softer
and fairer by the fairy-like chiffon draped so artistically over the pale
violet satin beneath it. A daintily gilded basket filled with violets told
all the story.
Saucy and pert beside her walked the little brownie Marie, looking for all
the world like the bobbing daffies in her white basket. One wanted to sing
the old nursery rhyme: "Daffy-down-dilly has come to town," for they were
nodding a friendly greeting from her hat, and seemed to lend their golden
sheen to the satin beneath the white chiffon gown.
Behind them followed May Foster and Natala King. May's bronze-brown hair
and brilliant coloring were a perfect foil for the creamy-white narcissus
blossoms on her hat and the creamy-white of her gown. While Natala's
light-brown hair and hazel eyes needed just the lilac tints to show how
pretty they were.
Then came Ruth and Helen. Could Miss Howard have chosen two who, placed
beside each other, would have formed a more pronounced contrast? Not even
the solemnity of the occasion could overcome Ruth's ruling passion,
curiosity: she was determined to see all to be seen if it rested with her
to do so. Nor were the pert pansy blossoms upon her hat, nodding a welcome
to all, more on the alert. Or could those which peeped from the folds of
her pansy-yellow gown, with its white chiffon draperies, smile in a more
friendly manner than did Ruth, as she walked slowly up that aisle, with
shy, modest Helen at her side. Helen looked the snowdrop to perfection,
for if the pansies needed Ruth's gypsy coloring for a foil, the snowdrops
needed Helen's pale blonde daintiness for theirs. The only color which
relieved its pure white was the deep green of the wax-like leaves, and the
contrast was perfect. The dress was of that soft silvery white only to be
contrived by the combination of satin and chiffon, and Helen looked very
lovely.
Behind them, a dream of fairness, walked Toinette. Through the chiffon of
her gown ran fine golden threads, which caused it to glint and glisten as
the sunbeams. The white satin underneath was of that peculiar ivory tint
which combines so exquisitely with gold tints. Her hat was made of the
chiffon, and trimmed with Easter lilies, which nestled in its soft folds
and against the beautiful golden hair beneath them. Her basket was also
white, and she was a fitting emblem of the pure soul she was leading to
the altar.
Then came the bride, her hand resting lightly upon the arm of the friend
who had led her along the greater part of her life's pathway, for Miss
Preston had been Miss Howard's "guide, philosopher and friend" almost as
long as she could remember. Very stately did she look, as she walked up
that aisle to give away at the altar something which the years had
rendered very precious to her, for sometimes "old maids' children" are
more dear to them than are the children who claim the love of parents.
Miss Preston was very proud of her honors.
But no words can describe the girl who walked at her side, her beautiful
face made transcendently so by the tenderest, holiest thought that can
fill a woman's heart: that she is about to become the wife of the man she
loves. She seemed to forget the church and all who were gathered there to
witness her happiness, and the soft, dark eyes looked straight before her
to the altar, where her husband to be awaited her, as though that altar
was to her as the entrance to the holy of holies; as, indeed, it was.
How brief is a marriage ceremony! A few words are spoken and two lives are
changed forever, never again to be the same as they were less than ten
minutes before, but filled with new duties, new obligations, and the
responsibilities we must all assume when we utter the words: "I will." God
meant that it should be so, and it is one of this world's many blessings.
[Illustration: "THE BRIDE, HER HAND RESTING LIGHTLY ON THE ARM OF HER
FRIEND."]
The reception Miss Preston gave for her "adopted daughter," as she called
Miss Howard, now Mrs. Chichester, was long talked over by the school, and
quoted by the girls as "our reception" for months.
Mr. and Mrs. Chichester sailed for Europe on the same steamer which
carried Miss Preston and her girls, and a happier, merrier party it would
have been hard to find. Toinette and Mr. Reeve went to bid them farewell
and a pleasant voyage, and the last faces those upon the great ship saw as
they swung out into the stream were Toinette's and her father's.
And now we, too, must leave them--leave them to the happy summer vacation,
when they learned how dear they were to each other, and what a dear old
world this is, after all, when two people manage to look at it through
little Dan Cupid's spectacles.