A BULLY WORLD
As Sally came down the stairs at a quarter of three in her white silk
wedding gown the wonder was how, after a morning of such honest hard
work as she had put in, it was possible for her to look so fresh. Many
a town bride, after spending the entire morning resting in preparation
for such an event, has at the last moment failed to turn up with such
apple-red cheeks or brilliant eyes. There was a gently serious
expression about her mouth, to be sure, but that was not due to
fatigue. In spite of her light-heartedness during the last few days
she had been all the while keenly conscious that she was accepting a
great responsibility. She was about to marry not only a lover, but a
man whose future was to be in her keeping. Among other things he was
to be a future partner in the firm of Carter, Rand & Seagraves, and
that meant several years of very hard work ahead of them. Then there
were the secret responsibilities--the unborn responsibilities. These
were not very definite, to be sure, but she felt them, timidly,
gravely, in queer little tuggings at her heart.
When finally she stood in front of the clergyman with Don by her side,
she felt, not that she was in a bower of wild flowers, but before an
altar. The ritual for her had a deeply religious significance. She
made her responses in a steady voice heard by every one in the room.
When she made the promise "to love, cherish, and obey," she spoke it
as though she meant it. It did not disturb her in the slightest to
utter the word "obey," because she knew well that whatever commands
came to her from Don would be of her own inspiring. To her this
promise was no more than an agreement to obey her own best impulses.
The service seemed almost too brief for so solemn an undertaking, but
when it was over, she reached for Don's hand and took it in a hearty
grip that was more of a pledge than the ring itself. It sent a tingle
to his heart and made his lips come together--the effect, a hundred
times magnified, of the coach's slap upon the back that used to
thrill him just before he trotted on the field before a big game. He
felt that the harder the obstacles to be overcome for her dear sake,
the better. He would like to have had a few at that moment as a relief
to his pent-up emotions.
He remembered in a sort of impatient daze the congratulations that
followed--with the faces of Mrs. Halliday and Barton standing out a
trifle more prominently--and then the luncheon. It seemed another week
before she went upstairs to change into her traveling-dress; another
week before she reappeared. Then came good-byes and the shower of
rice, with an old shoe or so mixed in. He had sent her trunk the day
before to the mountain hotel where they were to be for a week, but
they walked to the station, he carrying her suitcase. Then he found
himself on the train, and in another two hours they were at the hotel.
It was like an impossible dream come true when finally they stood for
the first time alone--she as his wife. He held out his arms to her and
she came this time without protest.
"Heart of mine," he whispered as he kissed her lips again and
again,--"heart of mine, this is a bully old world."
"You've made it that, Don."
"I? I haven't had anything to do about it except to get you."