WEDDING BELLS.
There was no reason why the marriage should not take place very soon. Mr.
Granger said so; Mr. Lovel agreed with him, half reluctantly as it were,
and with the air of a man who is far from eager to precipitate events.
There was no imaginable reason for delay.
Upon this point Mr. and Mrs. Oliver were as strong as Daniel Granger
himself. A union in every way so propitious could not be too speedily made
secure. Matthew Oliver was full of demonstrative congratulation now when he
dined at Mill Cottage.
"Who would have guessed when I brought you home from the station that
morning, and we drove through the park, that you were going to be mistress
of it so soon, Clary?" he exclaimed triumphantly. "Do you remember crying
when you heard the place was sold? I do, poor child; I can see your piteous
face at this moment. And now it is going to be yours again. Upon my word,
Providence has been very good to you, Clarissa."
Providence had been very good to her. They all told her the same story.
Amongst her few friends there was not one who seemed to suspect that this
marriage might be a sacrifice; that in her heart of hearts there might be
some image brighter than Daniel Granger's.
She found herself staring at these congratulatory friends in blank
amazement sometimes, wondering that they should all look at this engagement
of hers from the same point of view, all be so very certain of her
happiness.
Had she not reason to be happy, however? There had been a time when she had
talked and thought of her lost home almost as Adam and Eve may have done
when yet newly expelled from Paradise, with the barren world in all its
strangeness before them. Was it not something to win back this beloved
dwelling-place--something to obtain comfort for her father's age--to secure
an income which might enable her to help her brother in the days to come?
Nor was the man she had promised to marry obnoxious to her. He had done
much towards winning her regard in the patient progress of his wooing. She
believed him to be a good and honourable man, whose affection was something
that a woman might be proud of having won--a man whom it would be a bitter
thing to offend. She was clear-sighted enough to perceive his superiority
to her father--his utter truthfulness and openness of character. She did
feel just a little proud of his love. It was something to see this big
strong man, vigorous in mind as in body, reduced to so complete a bondage,
yet not undignified even in his slavery.
What was it, then, which came between her and the happiness which that
congratulatory chorus made so sure of? Only the image of the man she
had loved--the man she had rejected for honour's sake one bleak October
evening, and whom she had never ceased to think of since that time. She
knew that Daniel Granger was, in all likelihood, a better and a nobler
man than George Fairfax; but the face that had been with her in the
dimly-lighted railway-carriage, the friendly voice that had cheered her on
the first night of her womanhood, were with her still.
More than once, since that wintry afternoon when Mr. Granger had claimed
her as his own for the first time--taking her to his breast with a grave
and solemn tenderness, and telling her that every hope and desire of his
mind was centred in her, and that all his life to come would be devoted to
securing her happiness--more than once since that day she had been tempted
to tell her lover all the truth; but shame kept her silent. She did not
know how to begin her confession. On that afternoon she had been strangely
passive, like a creature stunned by some great surprise; and yet, after
what she had said to her father, she had expected every day that Mr.
Granger would speak.
After a good deal of discussion among third parties, and an undeviating
urgency on the part of Mr. Granger himself, it was arranged that the
wedding should take place at the end of May, and that Clarissa should see
Switzerland in its brightest aspect. She had once expressed a longing for
Alpine peaks and glaciers in her lover's presence, and he had from that
moment, determined that Switzerland should be the scene of his honeymoon.
They would go there so early as to avoid the herd of autumnal wanderers. He
knew the country, and could map out the fairest roads for their travels,
the pleasantest resting-places for their repose. And if Clarissa cared to
explore Italy afterwards, and spend October and November in Rome, she
could do so. All the world would be bright and new to him with her for his
companion. He looked forward with boyish eagerness to revisiting scenes
that he had fancied himself weary of until now. Yes; such a love as this
was indeed a renewal of youth.
To all arrangements made on her behalf Clarissa was submissive. What could
a girl, not a quite twenty, urge against the will of a man like Daniel
Granger, supported by such powerful allies as father, and uncle and aunt,
and friends? She thanked him more warmly than usual when he proposed the
Swiss tour. Yes; she had wished very much to see that country. Her brother
had gone there on a walking expedition when he was little more than a boy,
and had very narrowly escaped with his life from the perils of the road.
She had some of his Alpine sketches, in a small portfolio of particular
treasures, to this day.
Mrs. Oliver revelled in the business of the trousseau. Never since the
extravagant days of her early youth had she enjoyed such a feast of
millinery. To an aunt the provision of a wedding outfit is peculiarly
delightful. She has all the pomp and authority of a parent, without a
parent's responsibility. She stands _in loco parentis_ with regard
to everything except the bill. No uneasy twinge disturbs her, as the
glistening silk glides through the shopman's hands, and ebbs and flows in
billows of brightness on the counter. No demon of calculation comes between
her and the genius of taste, when the milliner suggests an extra flounce of
Marines, or a pelerine of Honiton.
A trip to London, and a fortnight or so spent in West-end shops, would have
been very agreeable to Mrs. Oliver; but on mature reflection she convinced
herself that to purchase her niece's trousseau in London would be a foolish
waste of power. The glory to be obtained in Wigmore or Regent-street was
a small thing compared with the _kudos_ that would arise to her from the
expenditure of a round sum of money among the simple traders of Holborough.
Thus it was that Clarissa's wedding finery was all ordered at Brigson and
Holder's, the great linendrapers in Holborough market-place, and all made
by Miss Mallow, the chief milliner and dressmaker of Holborough, who was in
a flutter of excitement from the moment she received the order, and held
little levees amongst her most important customers for the exhibition of
Miss Lovel's silks and laces.
Towards the end of April there came a letter of congratulation from Lady
Laura Armstrong, who was still in Germany; a very cordial and affectionate
letter, telling Clarissa that the tidings of her engagement had just
reached Baden; but not telling her how the news had come, and containing
not a word of allusion to Lady Geraldine or George Fairfax.
"Now that everything is so happily settled, Clary," wrote my lady,
"without any finesse or diplomacy on my part, I don't mind telling
you that I have had this idea in my head from the very first day I
saw you. I wanted you to win back Arden Court, the place you love so
dearly; and as Mr. Granger, to my mind, is a very charming person,
nothing seemed more natural than that my wishes should be realised.
But I really did not hope that matters would arrange themselves so
easily and so speedily. A thousand good wishes, dear, both for
yourself and your papa. We hope to spend the autumn at Hale, and I
suppose I shall then have the pleasure of seeing you begin your
reign as mistress of Arden Court. You must give a great many
parties, and make yourself popular in the neighbourhood at once.
_Entre nous_, I think our friend Miss Granger is rather fond of
power. It will be wise on your part to take your stand in the
beginning of things, and then affairs are pretty sure to go
pleasantly. Ever your affectionate
"LAURA ARMSTRONG."
Not a word about George Fairfax. Clarissa wondered where he was; whether
he was still angry with her, or had forgotten her altogether. The latter
seemed the more likely state of affairs. She wondered about him and then
reminded herself that she had no right even to wonder now. His was an image
which must be blotted out of her life. She cut all those careless sketches
out of her drawing-book. If it had only been as easy to tear the memory of
him out of her mind!
The end of May came very quickly, and with it Clarissa's wedding-day.
Before that day Miss Granger made a little formal address to her future
stepmother--an address worded with studious humility--promising a strict
performance of duty on Miss Granger's part in their new relations.
This awful promise was rather alarming to Clarissa, in whose mind Sophia
seemed one of those superior persons whom one is bound to respect and
admire, yet against whom some evil spark of the old Adam in our degraded
natures is ever ready to revolt.
"Pray don't talk of duty, my dear Sophia," she answered in a shy tremulous
way, clinging a little closer to Mr. Granger's arm. It was at Mill Cottage
that this conversation took place, a few days before the wedding. "There
can scarcely be a question of duty between people of the same age, like
you and me. But I hope we shall get to love each other more and more every
day."
"Of course you will," cried Daniel Granger heartily. "Why should you not
love each other? If your tastes don't happen to be exactly the same just
now, habitual intercourse will smooth down all that, and you'll find all
manner of things in which you _can_ sympathise. I've told Sophy that I
don't suppose you'll interfere much with her housekeeping, Clarissa. That's
rather a strong point with her, and I don't think it's much in your line."
Miss Granger tightened her thin lips with a little convulsive movement.
This speech seemed to imply that Miss Lovel's was a loftier line than hers.
Clarissa remembered Lady Laura's warning, and felt that she might be doing
wrong in surrendering the housekeeping. But then, on the other hand, she
felt herself quite unable to cope with Miss Granger's account-books.
"I have never kept a large house," she said. "I should be very sorry to
interfere."
"I was sure of it," exclaimed Mr. Granger; "and you will have more time to
be my companion, Clarissa, if your brain is not muddled with groceries and
butcher's-meat. You see, Sophia has such a peculiarly business-like mind."
"However humble my gifts may be, I have always endeavoured to employ them
for your benefit, papa," Miss Granger replied with a frosty air.
She had come to dine at Mill Cottage for the first time since she had known
of her father's engagement. She had come in deference to her father's
express desire, and it was a hard thing for her to offer even this small
tribute to Clarissa. It was a little family dinner--the Olivers, Mr.
Padget, the rector of Arden, who was to assist cheery Matthew Oliver in
tying the fatal knot, and Mr. and Miss Granger--a pleasant little party of
seven, for whom Mr. Lovel's cook had prepared quite a model dinner. She
had acquired a specialty for about half-a-dozen dishes which her master
affected, and in the preparation of these could take her stand against the
pampered matron who ruled Mr. Granger's kitchen at a stipend of seventy
guineas a year, and whose subordinate and assistant had serious thoughts
of launching herself forth upon the world as a professed cook, by
advertisement in the _Times_--"clear soups, entrees, ices, &c."
The wedding was to be a very quiet one. Mr. Lovel had expressed a strong
desire that it should be so; and Mr. Granger's wishes in no way clashed
with those of his father-in-law.
"I am a man of fallen fortunes," said Mr. Lovel, "and all Yorkshire knows
my history. Anything like pomp or publicity would be out of place in the
marriage of my daughter. When she is your wife it will be different. Her
position will be a very fine one; for she will have some of the oldest
blood in the county, supported by abundance of money. The Lycians used to
take their names from their mothers. I think, if you have a son. Granger,
you ought to call him Lovel."
"I should be proud to do so," answered Mr. Granger. "I am not likely to
forget that my wife is my superior in social rank."
"A superiority that counts for very little when unsustained by hard cash,
my dear Granger," returned Marmaduke Lovel lightly. He was supremely
content with the state of affairs, and had no wish to humiliate his
son-in-law.
So the wedding was performed as simply as if Miss Lovel had been uniting
her fortunes with those of some fledgling of the curate species. There
were only two bridesmaids--Miss Granger, who performed the office with an
unwilling heart; and Miss Pontifex, a flaxen-haired young lady of high
family and no particular means, provided for the occasion by Mrs. Oliver,
at whose house she and Clarissa had become acquainted. There was a
breakfast, elegant enough in its way--for the Holborough confectioner had
been put upon his mettle by Mrs. Oliver--served prettily in the cottage
parlour. The sun shone brightly upon Mr. Granger's espousals. The village
children lined the churchyard walk, and strewed spring flowers upon the
path of bride and bridegroom--tender vernal blossoms which scarcely
harmonised with Daniel Granger's stalwart presence and fifty years.
Clarissa, very pale and still, with a strange fixed look on her face, came
out of the little church upon her husband's arm; and it seemed to her in
that hour as if all the life before her was like an unknown country, hidden
by a great cloud.
* * * * *