A Singer from the Sea Part 36

There was no carriage available, and the walk to St. Clair was long and apt to be wet from the last tide. And n.o.body wanted the bride-dress to be soiled. Besides which, the sea-way gave the St.

Penfer people an opportunity to set her off with waving kerchiefs and a thousand good wishes; and it also gave the people of St. Clair an opportunity to welcome her in the same manner. Those who did not know about such things and who were wickedly reckless concerning signs and omens--which sailor and fisher folk never are--said this seaward road to the church might have been avoided and the bride's gown kept sweetly fresh and unruffled by Denas simply dressing in her own house.

But Denas knew well that it was unlucky; for the bride in her bride-dress must go into her house before she comes out of it.

The chapel was crowded up to the pulpit steps, all but John's pew, which was empty until the bride's party took possession of it. It was a sight to make men and women happy only to look at Joan Penelles'

face. John tried to preserve a grave look, but Joan beamed upon every man and woman present. When the little stir of their entrance had subsided, then the Easter service went joyously on. It was known that the wedding was to be solemnized between the sermon and the benediction, and though the sermon was a very good one, all thought it a little long that morning. For there is something about a bridal, and a bride, and a bridegroom, that is perennially fresh and young.

But at length the happy moment arrived. Tris rose and offered his hand to Denas. Then Denas also rose and let her long cloak fall down, and put her bonnet off her head, and walked by Tris' side to the communion table. John and Joan proudly followed. All with curious interest watched the bride, for few then present had ever seen a bride so bride-like. And well might the handsome sailor be proud of her as she stood beside him robed in white, l.u.s.trous silk, with lilies at her breast and the gleam of scarlet corals in her fair hair and at her white throat.

Let those who have been so blessed as to live through such moments imagine them. And, alas! for those who cannot say with a smile, "I know; I know." In this marriage, the bride and bridegroom's joy was doubled by being so enthusiastically shared. It was not only the preacher who gave them the benediction; they walked through an atmosphere so full of kindness and good-will and good wishes that they could do nothing at all but smile, and smile, and smile again to the "G.o.d bless you, dears," which greeted them at every step.

Then the clerk spread open the book and the preacher put the pen into the bride's hand. She looked at her husband; she looked at her mother; she hesitated a moment, and then wrote boldly--not Denasia--but--

"_Denas._"

Neither father nor mother disputed the name. They certified it with their own names, and then pa.s.sed with their children into the suns.h.i.+ne. The congregation were waiting outside. They parted and made a way between them for the bride and the bridegroom to take; and so standing there, watched them go hand-in-hand up the hillside to the pretty vine-covered house which was to be their future home. To mortal eyes they seemed to walk alone, but they did not. They had right welcome company, for--

"Love took them softly by the hand, Love led them through their own dear door, And showed them in the sea and land Beauty they had not known before-- Never before: O Love! sweet Love!

"And now it cannot pa.s.s away; They see it wheresoe'er they go; And in their hearts by night and day Its gladness singeth to and fro, By night and day: O Love! sweet Love!"