Two days later at high noon was solemnized the marriage of his
lordship to the woman who, without a bit meaning it, I had so
curiously caused to enter his life. The day was for myself so crowded
with emotions that it returns in rather a jumble: patches of
incidents, little floating clouds of memory; some meaningless and one
at least to be significant to my last day.
The ceremony was had in our most nearly smart church. It was only a
Methodist church, but I took pains to assure myself that a ceremony
performed by its curate would be legal. I still seem to hear the
organ, strains of “The Voice That Breathed Through Eden,” as we neared
the altar; also the Mixer’s rumbling whisper about a lost handkerchief
which she apparently found herself needing at that moment.
The responses of bride and groom were unhesitating, even firm. Her
ladyship, I thought, had never appeared to better advantage than in
the pearl-tinted lustreless going-away gown she had chosen. As always,
she had finely known what to put on her head.
Senator Floud, despite Belknap-Jackson’s suggestion of himself for the
office, had been selected to give away the bride, as the saying is. He
performed his function with dignity, though I recall being seized with
horror when the moment came; almost certain I am he restrained himself
with difficulty from making a sort of a speech.
The church was thronged. I had seen to that. I had told her ladyship
that I should ask quite almost every one, and this I had done,
squarely in the face of Belknap-Jackson’s pleading that discretion be
used. For a great white light, as one might say, had now suffused me.
I had seen that the moment was come when the warring factions of Red
Gap should be reunited. A Bismarck I felt myself, indeed. That I acted
ably was later to be seen.
Even for the wedding breakfast, which occurred directly after the
ceremony, I had shown myself a dictator in the matter of guests.
Covers were laid in my room for seventy and among these were included
not only the members of the North Side set and the entire Bohemian
set, but many worthy persons not hitherto socially existent yet who
had been friends or well-wishers of the bride.
I am persuaded to confess that in a few of these instances I was not
above a snarky little wish to correct the social horizon of
Belknap-Jackson; to make it more broadly accord, as I may say, with
the spirit of American equality for which their forefathers bled and
died on the battlefields of Boston, New York, and Vicksburg.
Not the least of my reward, then, was to see his eyebrows more than
once eloquently raise, as when the cattle-persons, Hank and Buck,
appeared in suits of decent black, or when the driver chap Pierce
entered with his quite obscure mother on his arm, or a few other
cattle and horse persons with whom the Honourable George had palled up
during his process of going in for America.
This laxity I felt that the Earl of Brinstead and his bride could
amply afford, while for myself I had soundly determined that Red Gap
should henceforth be without “sets.” I mean to say, having frankly
taken up America, I was at last resolved to do it whole-heartedly. If
I could not take up the whole of it, I would not take up a part. Quite
instinctively I had chosen the slogan of our Chamber of Commerce:
“Don’t Knock--Boost; and Boost Altogether.” Rudely worded though it
is, I had seen it to be sound in spirit.
These thoughts ran in my mind during the smart repast that now
followed. Insidiously I wrought among the guests to amalgamate into
one friendly whole certain elements that had hitherto been hostile.
The Bohemian set was not segregated. Almost my first inspiration had
been to scatter its members widely among the conservative pillars of
the North Side set. Left in one group, I had known they would plume
themselves quite intolerably over the signal triumph of their leader;
perhaps, in the American speech, “start something.” Widely scattered,
they became mere parts of the whole I was seeking to achieve.
The banquet progressed gayly to its finish. Toasts were drunk no end,
all of them proposed by Senator Floud who, toward the last, kept
almost constantly on his feet. From the bride and groom he expanded
geographically through Red Gap, the Kulanche Valley, the State of
Washington, and the United States to the British Empire, not omitting
the Honourable George--who, I noticed, called for the relish and
consumed quite almost an entire bottle during the meal. Also I was
proposed--“through whose lifelong friendship for the illustrious groom
this meeting of hearts and hands has been so happily brought about.”
Her ladyship’s eyes rested briefly upon mine as her lips touched the
glass to this. They conveyed the unspeakable. Rather a fool I felt,
and unable to look away until she released me. She had been wondrously
quiet through it all. Not dazed in the least, as might have been
looked for in one of her lowly station thus prodigiously elevated; and
not feverishly gay, as might also have been anticipated. Simple and
quiet she was, showing a complete but perfectly controlled awareness
of her position.
For the first time then, I think, I did envision her as the Countess
of Brinstead. She was going to carry it off. Perhaps quite as well as
even I could have wished his lordship’s chosen mate to do. I observed
her look at his lordship with those strange lights in her eyes, as if
only half realizing yet wholly believing all that he believed. And
once at the height of the gayety I saw her reach out to touch his
sleeve, furtively, swiftly, and so gently he never knew.
It occurred to me there were things about the woman we had taken too
little trouble to know. I wondered what old memories might be coming
to her now; what staring faces might obtrude, what old, far-off,
perhaps hated, voices might be sounding to her; what of remembered
hurts and heartaches might newly echo back to make her flinch and
wonder if she dreamed. She touched the sleeve again, as it might have
been in protection from them, her eyes narrowed, her gaze fixed. It
queerly occurred to me that his lordship might find her as difficult
to know as we had--and yet would keep always trying more than we had,
to be sure. I mean to say, she was no gabbler.
The responses to the Senator’s toasts increased in volume. His final
flight, I recall, involved terms like “our blood-cousins of the
British Isles,” and introduced a figure of speech about “hands across
the sea,” which I thought striking, indeed. The applause aroused by
this was noisy in the extreme, a number of the cattle and horse
persons, including the redskin Tuttle, emitting a shrill, concerted
“yipping” which, though it would never have done with us, seemed
somehow not out of place in North America, although I observed
Belknap-Jackson to make gestures of extreme repugnance while it
lasted.
There ensued a rather flurried wishing of happiness to the pair. A
novel sight it was, the most austere matrons of the North Side set
vying for places in the line that led past them. I found myself trying
to analyze the inner emotions of some of them I best knew as they
fondly greeted the now radiant Countess of Brinstead. But that way
madness lay, as Shakespeare has so aptly said of another matter. I
recalled, though, the low-toned comment of Cousin Egbert, who stood
near me.
“Don’t them dames stand the gaff noble!” It was quite true. They were
heroic. I recalled then his other quaint prophecy that her ladyship
would hand them a bottle of lemonade. As is curiously usual with this
simple soul, he had gone to the heart of the matter.
The throng dwindled to the more intimate friends. Among those who
lingered were the Belknap-Jacksons and Mrs. Effie. Quite solicitous
they were for the “dear Countess,” as they rather defiantly called her
to one another. Belknap-Jackson casually mentioned in my hearing that
he had been asked to Chaynes-Wotten for the shooting. Mrs. Effie, who
also heard, swiftly remarked that she would doubtless run over in the
spring--the dear Earl was so insistent. They rather glared at each
other. But in truth his lordship had insisted that quite almost every
one should come and stop on with him.
“Of course, course, what, what! Jolly party, no end of fun. Week-end,
that sort of thing. Know she’ll like her old friends best. Wouldn’t be
keen for the creature if she’d not. Have ‘em all, have ‘em all.
Capital, by Jove!”
To be sure it was a manner of speaking, born of the expansive good
feeling of the moment. Yet I believe Cousin Egbert was the only
invited one to decline. He did so with evident distress at having to
refuse.
“I like your little woman a whole lot,” he observed to his lordship,
“but Europe is too kind of uncomfortable for me; keeps me upset all
the time, what with all the foreigners and one thing and another. But,
listen here, Cap! You pack the little woman back once in a while. Just
to give us a flash at her. We’ll give you both a good time.”
“What ho!” returned his lordship. “Of course, course! Fancy we’d like
it vastly, what, what!”
“Yes, sir, I fancy you would, too,” and rather startlingly Cousin
Egbert seized her ladyship and kissed her heartily. Whereupon her
ladyship kissed the fellow in return.
“Yes, sir, I dare say I fancy you would,” he called back a bit
nervously as he left.
Belknap-Jackson drove the party to the station, feeling, I am sure,
that he scored over Mrs. Effie, though he was obliged to include the
Mixer, from whom her ladyship bluntly refused to be separated. I
inferred that she must have found the time and seclusion in which to
weep a bit on the Mixer’s shoulder. The waist of the latter’s purple
satin gown was quite spotty at the height of her ladyship’s eyes.
Belknap-Jackson on this occasion drove his car with the greatest
solicitude, proceeding more slowly than I had ever known him do. As I
attended to certain luggage details at the station he was regretting
to his lordship that they had not had a longer time at the country
club the day it was exhibited.
“Look a bit after silly old George,” said his lordship to me at
parting. “Chap’s dotty, I dare say. Talking about a plantation of
apple trees now. For his old age--that sort of thing. Be something new
in a fortnight, though. Like him, of course, course!”
Her ladyship closed upon my hand with a remarkable vigour of grip.
“We owe it all to you,” she said, again with dancing eyes. Then her
eyes steadied queerly. “Maybe you won’t be sorry.”
“Know I shan’t.” I fancy I rather growled it, stupidly feeling I was
not rising to the occasion. “Knew his lordship wouldn’t rest till he
had you where he wanted you. Glad he’s got you.” And curiously I felt
a bit of a glad little squeeze in my throat for her. I groped for
something light--something American.
“You are some Countess,” I at last added in a silly way.
“What, what!” said his lordship, but I had caught her eyes. They
brimmed with understanding.
With the going of that train all life seemed to go. I mean to say,
things all at once became flat. I turned to the dull station.
“Give you a lift, old chap,” said Belknap-Jackson. Again he was
cordial. So firmly had I kept the reins of the whole affair in my
grasp, such prestige he knew it would give me, he dared not broach his
grievance.
Some half-remembered American phrase of Cousin Egbert’s ran in my
mind. I had put a buffalo on him!
“Thank you,” I said, “I’m needing a bit of a stretch and a
breeze-out.”
I wished to walk that I might the better meditate. With
Belknap-Jackson one does not sufficiently meditate.
A block up from the station I was struck by the sight of the
Honourable George. Plodding solitary down that low street he was,
heeled as usual by the Judson cur. He came to the Spilmer public house
and for a moment stared up, quite still, at the “Last Chance” on its
chaffing signboard. Then he wheeled abruptly and entered. I was moved
to follow him, but I knew it would never do. He would row me about the
service of the Grill--something of that sort. I dare say he had
fancied her ladyship as keenly as one of his volatile nature might.
But I knew him!
Back on our street the festival atmosphere still lingered. Groups of
recent guests paused to discuss the astounding event. The afternoon
paper was being scanned by many of them. An account of the wedding was
its “feature,” as they say. I had no heart for that, but on the second
page my eye caught a minor item:
“A special meeting of the Ladies Onwards and Upwards Club is
called for to-morrow afternoon at two sharp at the residence
of Mrs. Dr. Percy Hailey Martingale, for the transaction of
important business.”
One could fancy, I thought, what the meeting would discuss. Nor was I
wrong, for I may here state that the evening paper of the following
day disclosed that her ladyship the Countess of Brinstead had
unanimously been elected to a life honorary membership in the club.
Back in the Grill I found the work of clearing the tables well
advanced, and very soon its before-dinner aspect of calm waiting was
restored. Surveying it I reflected that one might well wonder if aught
momentous had indeed so lately occurred here. A motley day it had
been.