The wedding was over. Pretty little Trinity Church was left alone with
its decorations of flowers and vines, the work of Miss Billy Breeze.
Miss Billy, much excited, was now standing beside Ruth in the parlor at
L'Hommedieu; for Miss Billy and Maud Muriel were the bridesmaids. Maud
Muriel had consented with solemnity. "It is strange that such a man as
Horace Chase, a man of sense and importance, should be taken with a
child like Ruth Franklin," she confided to Miss Billy. "However, I won't
desert him at such a moment. I'll stand by him." She was in reality not
so much bridesmaid as groomsman.
L'Hommedieu was decked with flowers. It was a warm autumn day, the
windows and doors were open. All Asheville was in attendance, if not in
the house and on the verandas, then gazing over the fence, and waiting
outside the gate. For there were many things to engage its attention.
First, there was Mrs. Franklin, looking very distinguished; then
Genevieve, the most beautiful woman present. Then there was Bishop
Carew, who had come from Wilmington to officiate. All Asheville admired
the bishop--the handsome, kindly, noble old man, full of dignity, full
of sweetness as well; they were proud that he had come to "their"
wedding. For that was the way they thought of it. Even the
negroes--those who had flocked to old Daniel's race--had a sense of
ownership in the affair.
A third point of interest was the general surprise over Maud. As Ruth
had selected the costumes of her bridesmaids, Miss Mackintosh was
attired for the first time in her life in ample soft draperies. Her
hair, too, arranged by Miss Billy, had no longer the look of the
penitentiary, and the result was that (to the amazement of the town) the
sculptress was almost handsome.
Anthony Etheridge, much struck by this (and haunted by his old idea),
pressed upon her a glass of punch.
"Take it," he urged, in a low tone, "take two or three. Then, as soon as
this is over, hurry to your studio and _let yourself go_. You'll do
wonders!"
Two of Chase's partners were present, Nicholas Willoughby, a
quiet-looking man of fifty-eight, and his nephew Walter of the same
name; Walter was acting as "best man." The elder Willoughby had made use
of the occasion to take a general look at this mountain country, with
reference to Chase's ideas concerning it, in order to make a report to
his brother Richard. For Nicholas and Richard were millionaires many
times over; their business in life was investment. Asheville itself,
meanwhile, hardly comprehended the importance of such an event as the
presence within its borders of a New York capitalist; it knew very
little about New York, still less about capitalists. Mrs. Franklin,
however, possessed a wider knowledge; she understood what was
represented by the name of Willoughby. And it had solaced her
unspeakably also to note that the uncle had a genuine liking for her
future son-in-law. "They have a real regard for him," she said to her
son, in private. "And I myself like him rather better than I once
thought I should."
Jared had come from Charleston on the preceding day. "Oh, that's far too
guarded, mother," he answered. "The only way for us now is to like
Horace Chase with enthusiasm, to cling to him with the deepest
affection. We must admire unflinchingly everything he says and
everything he does--swallow him whole, as it were; it isn't difficult to
swallow things _whole_! Just watch me." And, in truth, it was Jared's
jocularity that enlivened the reception, and made it so gay; it reached
even Dolly, who (to aid him) became herself a veritable Catherine-wheel
of jokes, so that every one noticed how happy all the Franklins
were--how delighted with the marriage.
Chase himself appeared well. His rather ordinary face was lighted by an
expression of deep inward happiness which was touching; its set lines
were relaxed; his eyes, which were usually too keen, had a softness that
was new to them. He was very silent; he let his best man talk for him.
Walter Willoughby performed this part admirably; standing beside the
bridegroom, he "supported" him gayly through the two hours which were
given up to the outside friends.
Ruth looked happy, but not particularly pretty. The excitement had given
her a deep flush; even her throat was red.
At three o'clock Peter and Piper were brought round to the door; Chase
was to drive his wife over the mountains, through the magnificent
forest, now gorgeous with the tints of autumn, and at Old Fort a special
train was waiting to take them eastward.
A few more minutes and then they were gone. There was nothing left but
the scattered rice on the ground, and Petie Trone, Esq., barking his
little heart out at the gate.