Part 29 (1/2)
”Mab, couldn't you design it yourself?” asked Florence; ”it would be so much handsomer, and Miss Christine would think all the more of it.”
”Nothing I should like better, if you'll all trust me.”
”Of course we will,” said Mattie; ”you designed your carpet-bag, didn't you? It is a perfect beauty!”
”Let me see it,” said Sarah. ”It's a new one, isn't it?”
”Oh, what handsome letters!” said Rachel. ”There, now I see for the first time why the girls call you Mab. I always thought it was such a queer nickname for Marion.”
”Why, didn't you know?” answered Marion. ”M. A. B., Marion Ascott Berkley; but I never write my whole name; I like just the two, Marion Berkley, a great deal better.”
”Do you know,” said Sarah, in the most serious way, ”I don't think 'Mab'
seems to suit you so well as it used to? then you were sort of--well--but now you're kind of--I don't exactly know what, but different from the other.”
”Sallie, you are a goose!” laughed Marion, as Sarah's lucid description of the change in her character produced a shout from the girls. ”I shall have to muzzle you until you manage your tongue better;” and quick as a flash Marion seized her satchel, and clapped it over Sarah's head, who resisted violently; ”will you be a good girl if I let you out?”
”Yes! yes!” cried Sallie, from the inside of the bag, her voice almost drowned by the laughter of the girls.
”Well now, behave yourself,” said Marion, as she released her prisoner, ”and next time don't talk of what you know nothing about.”
”Well, you are, any way!” cried Sarah, brus.h.i.+ng the hair out of her eyes.
”Take care!” laughed Marion, shaking the satchel at Sarah; ”you know what you have to expect.”
”Come, girls, let's go downstairs and tell the others,” said Rachel.
”So we will,” said Marion; ”they ought to have known it as soon as we did;” and down they all went.
Miss Christine's engagement did not long remain a secret, and when the knowledge became general, the little woman was fairly showered with kisses and caresses. Her scholars had almost wors.h.i.+pped her before, but now she seemed invested with a new importance, and was quite enveloped in a perpetual incense of love and admiration. M. Beranger, in the comparatively short time he had been with them, had won the respect of all his pupils; but now that he was going to marry their Miss Christine they made a perfect hero of him.
It came out, at last, that the marriage was to take place the last day of June, two days later than the usual one for closing school. Miss Christine's first idea had been to be married very quietly in church, inviting any of the scholars who chose to do so to remain over; but the girls all begged her to have a ”regular wedding,” as they called it, and she had consented.
Every one of the scholars was perfectly delighted at the idea of staying over to the wedding, and all were anxiously looking forward to the important day. Invitations were sent to those of the parents with whom Miss Christine was personally acquainted, and the girls had great fun planning and replanning how all the guests were to be accommodated for the night, as they would have to come the night previous. Great was the delight of Marion, when Miss Christine told her that she wanted the six graduates to be her bridesmaids, and she immediately ran off to find the girls and plan their dresses. They had been as busy as bees ever since they knew of the engagement; there were but a few st.i.tches more to set in the ottoman, and it was to be sent the next day to Mrs. Berkley, who was to get it mounted, and bring it up when she came.
As many of the scholars were very wealthy, while the parents of others were in moderate circ.u.mstances, Marion had suggested that all contributions for the present, from the whole school, should be put into a closed box, through a hole in the cover, thus preventing any one from having an uncomfortable consciousness that she had not been able to give as much as another. When the box was opened, it was found to contain a very large sum. This was forwarded by Marion, who seemed by general consent to be considered chief of the committee of arrangements, to her mother, with directions to use it in the purchase of a plain, but handsome, gold watch and chain. There proved to be a surplus fund, with which Mrs. Berkley bought a large alb.u.m, in which were placed photographs of all the girls in the school.
Miss Stiefbach had so much to occupy her mind, that several times during the week of the wedding she was actually seen to hurry through the hall, quite forgetful of her usual dignified glide. In fact, she seemed quite another person; the prospect of her sister's happiness had wrought a great change in her, and made her quite unbend to those around her.
Aunt Bettie came down several times with b.u.t.ter and eggs, never going away without getting a glimpse of Marion, and for three or four days before _the_ day, Jemima was at the house all the time, stoning raisins, beating eggs, and making herself generally useful.
At last the wedding-day actually arrived. Mr. and Mrs. Berkley, with several other fathers and mothers, had arrived the night previous, and every nook and corner of the house was filled to overflowing. Some of the scholars slept three in a bed, others on mattresses laid on the floor; but no one thought of complaining, and the more inconvenience they had to put up with, the better they seemed to like it; for wasn't it all for their Miss Christine?
The six bridesmaids, with the other older girls, had been busy every moment of the day before, making wreaths of wild flowers and roses; these they hung early in the morning all over the lower part of the house. The folding-doors were festooned, and trimmed with an arch of flowers, and the walls of the little room back of them, in which Miss Christine was to stand to receive her friends, were perfectly covered with wreaths, garlands, and bouquets; so that it looked like a fairy bower.
They had also decorated the church, although of that neither Miss Stiefbach nor Miss Christine was as yet aware. The chancel-rail was trimmed with garlands of white flowers; down the aisle were four arches, the one at the door being of bright, glowing colors, and each one growing paler, until the one in front of the altar was of pure, bridal white, and over that hung a ”marriage bell” of marguerites.
The girls had had to work hard, and had scoured the country far and near for flowers; but they had done everything themselves, and not a bud was twined in those decorations that did not take with it a loving thought of the dear little woman in whose honor they were made.
At last everything was completed; the bridesmaids were all dressed, and collected in Marion's room, putting on their gloves, and Marion had gone to put on the bridal veil,--a favor which she had begged, and which had been most readily granted; in a few moments that was done and the party started for the church, where Miss Stiefbach and her guests were already arrived. I doubt if it would be possible to find a prettier bridal party in all the world, than entered that little church that glorious June morning. First came Mattie Denton and Grace Minton; then Julia Thayer and Alice Howard; then Marion and Florence, and directly behind them M.