Part 20 (2/2)
”Would you rather I didn't go?”
”No; I'm glad you're going--I mean, I'm glad you have decided to keep to your plan.”
”What makes you think I have?”
”Because, being you, you couldn't do otherwise.”
”But when I come back--”
Her fingers tightened in his.
”I want two months all alone with you in this little house,” he whispered. ”Send the servants away--it won't be very hard to do the work--for just us two--I'll help. That's--that's--_marriage_--a big wedding and a public honeymoon--and--all that go with them--are just a cheap imitation--of the real thing. Then, later on, if you like, this first winter, we'll go away together--to Spain or Italy or the South of France--or wherever you wish--but first--we'll begin together here. Will you marry me--the first of September, Sylvia?”
Austin drove home in the broad daylight of four o'clock on a June morning. Then, after the motor was put away, he took his working clothes over his arm, went to the river, and plunged in. When he came back, with damp hair, cool skin, and a heart singing with peace and joy, he found Peter, whistling, starting towards the barn with his milk-pail over his arm. It was the beginning of a new day.
CHAPTER XVII
”I, Sarah, take thee, Frederick, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to G.o.d's holy ordinance. And thereto I give thee my troth.”
The old clock in the corner was ticking very distinctly; the scent of roses in the crowded room made the air heavy with sweetness; the candles on the mantelpiece flickered in the breeze from the open window; outside a whip-poor-will was singing in the lilac bushes.
”With this ring I thee wed, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
An involuntary tear rolled down Mrs. Gray's cheek, to be hastily concealed and wiped away with her new lace handkerchief; her husband was looking straight ahead of him, very hard, at nothing; Ruth adjusted the big white bow on little Elsie's curls; Sylvia felt for Austin's hand behind the folds of her dress, and found it groping for hers.
Then suddenly the spell was broken. The minister was shaking hands with the bride and groom, Sally was taking her bouquet from Molly, every one was laughing and talking at once, crowding up to offer congratulations, handling, admiring, and discussing the wedding presents, half-falling over each other with haste and excitement. Delicious smells began to issue from the kitchen, and the long dining-table was quickly laden down.
Sylvia took her place at one end, behind the coffee-urn, Molly at the other end, behind the strawberries and ice-cream. Katherine, Edith, and the boys flew around pa.s.sing plates, cakes of all kinds, great sugared doughnuts and fat cookies. Sally was borne into the room triumphant on a ”chair” made of her brothers' arms to cut and distribute the ”bride's cake.” Then, when every one had eaten as much as was humanly possible, the piano was moved out to the great new barn, with its fine concrete floors swept and scoured as only Peter could do it, and its every stall festooned with white crepe paper by Sylvia, and the dancing began--for this time the crowd was too great to permit it in the house, in spite of the s.p.a.cious rooms. Molly and Sylvia took turns in playing, and each found several eager partners waiting for her, every time the ”s.h.i.+ft”
occurred. Finally, about midnight, the bride went upstairs to change her dress, and the girls gathered around the banisters to be ready to catch the bouquet when she came down, laughing and teasing each other while they waited. Great shouts arose, and much joking began, when Edith--and not Sylvia as every one had privately hoped--caught the huge bunch of flowers and ribbon, and ran with it in her arms out on the wide piazza, all the others behind her, to be ready to pelt Sally and Fred with rice when they appeared. Thomas was to drive them to the station, and Sylvia's motor was bedecked with white garlands and bows, slippers and bells, from one end of it to the other. At last the rush came; and the happy victims, showered and dishevelled, waving their handkerchiefs and shouting good-bye, were whisked up the hill, and out of sight.
Sylvia insisted on staying, to begin ”straightening out the worst of the mess” as soon as the last guest had gone, and on remaining overnight, sleeping in Sally's old room with Molly, to be on hand and go on with the good work the first thing in the morning. Sadie and James had to leave on the afternoon train, as James had stretched his leave of absence from business to the very last degree already; so by evening the house was painfully tidy again, and so quiet that Mrs. Gray declared it ”gave her the blues just to listen to it.”
The next night was to be Austin's last one at home, and he had promised Sylvia to go and take supper with her, but just before six o'clock the telephone rang, and she knew that something had happened to disappoint her.
”Is that you, Sylvia?”
”Yes, dear.”
”Mr. Carter--the President of the Wallacetown Bank, you know--has just called me up. There's going to be a meeting of the bank officers just after the fourth, as they've decided to enlarge their board of directors, and add at least one 'rising young farmer' as he put it--And oh, Sylvia, he asked if I would allow my name to be proposed! Just think--after all the years when we couldn't get a _cent_ from them at any rate of interest, to have that come! It's every bit due to you!”
”It isn't either--it's due to the splendid work you've done this last year.”
”Well, we won't stop to discuss that now. He wants me to drive up and see him about it right away. Do you mind if I take the motor? I can make so much better time, and get back to you so much more quickly--but I can't come to supper--you must forgive me if I go.”
”I never should forgive you if you didn't--that's wonderful news! Don't hurry--I'll be glad to see you whatever time you get back.”
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