For Woman's Love Part 28

At a quarter past ten the bridegroom, with his best man, Clarence Rockharrt, followed in another very handsome carriage.

They drove around to the side of the church, and pa.s.sed in through the rector's door to the vestry on the left of the chancel, where they awaited the arrival of the bride's party, and through the open door of which they looked in upon the splendidly decorated and crowded church.

An affluence of rare exotic flowers everywhere. The green-houses of the State capital and of three neighboring cities had been laid under contribution by Mr. Fabian, and had yielded up their sweetest treasures for this occasion. Floral arches spanned the center aisle from side to side, all the way up from the door to the chancel; festoons of flowers were looped from the galleries on three sides of the church; wreaths of flowers were wound around the pillars from floor to ceiling; the railing around the chancel was covered with flowers; the pulpit and reading desk were hidden under flowers. The pews were filled with the beauty, fas.h.i.+on, and aristocracy of the capital, and a splendid crowd they formed. Every lady held a rich bouquet; every gentleman wore a rare boutonniere.

Mr. Fabian looked at his watch from moment to moment. We have scarcely ever seen a more impatient bridegroom than Mr. Fabian Rockharrt. But, then, childish disorders go hard with elderly folks. Just as the clock struck eleven, with dramatic punctuality, the gentlemanly white-satin-badged ushers threw open the double doors, and the bride's procession entered. She wore a trained dress of rich white satin, with an overskirt, berthe and veil, all of d.u.c.h.ess lace, looped, fastened and festooned here and there and everywhere with orange buds; and a magnificent set of diamonds, consisting of a coronet, necklace, ear-drops, brooch, and bracelets--too much for the little creature--lighting her up like fireworks as she pa.s.sed under the blaze of the sunlit windows. She carried in her white-gloved hand a bouquet of white wood violets, with her monogram in purple violets in the center.

She was leaning on the arm of her guardian, the chief justice, followed by eight bridesmaids.

The bishop, with two other clergymen, in their white vestments, entered and took their places at the altar. The choir struck up Mendelssohn's wedding march. The bride's procession came slowly up under all the floral arches of the center aisle to the floral hedge around the chancel.

The bridegroom came gayly out of the vestry room to meet her, smiling, radiant, tripping as if he had been a slim young lover of twenty, instead of a tall and heavy giant of fifty odd. He took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and led her to the altar, where both knelt. The bridesmaids grouped behind them. The best man stood on the groom's right. Old Aaron Rockharrt, Mrs. Rothsay and Cadet Haught came out of their pew and formed a group behind the bridegroom.

Mrs. Chief Justice Pendletime, and a few intimate friends, came out of her pew and grouped behind the bride and her maids.

The rest of the congregation remained in their pews, but stood up, and those in the rear raised on tiptoes and craned their necks to witness the proceedings. As soon as the bridegroom and the bride had knelt under the floral arch, from the high center of which hung a wedding bell of white wood violets, the bishop and his a.s.sistants stepped down from the high altar steps, and opened their books.

The rites commenced, and went on without any unusual disturbance of their course until they came to the question:

"Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?"

Her guardian, the chief justice, a portly, ponderous person, was moving solemnly forward to perform this duty, when--

Old Aaron Rockharrt--not from officiousness, but out of pure simple egotism--took the bride's hand and placed it in that of the groom, saying:

"I do."

You may judge the effect of this. The bride was mildly amazed; the bridegroom was deeply annoyed; the chief justice, the rightful owner of the thunder, was highly offended, and withdrew back in solemn dignity.

Meanwhile the ceremony went on to its end. The benediction was p.r.o.nounced, and congratulations were in order.

The marriage feast was a great success, like most other affairs of the kind. The chief justice had not got over the affront given him at the church, but he could not show resentment in his own house, and on the occasion of his young ward's wedding breakfast. As for Old Aaron Rockharrt, he had not the faintest idea that he had committed any breach of propriety. The deuce, you say! Was it not his own eldest son's wedding? Had he not a right to give away the bride? He never even asked himself the question. He took it for granted as a matter of course.

Besides, was not he the greatest man present? And should not he do just as he thought fit? So in utter ignorance of any offense given to any one, the Iron King unbent his stiffness for once, and was very genial to every one, especially to the chief justice, who, secretly offended as he was, could not but respond to this friendliness.

Among the wedding guests around the board was the beautiful widow, Mrs.

Bloomingfield. Mrs. Pendletime had requested Mr. Rockharrt to take her to the table, and he had offered her his arm, placing her at the board, and seated himself beside her. The Iron King looked at the lady with more interest than he would have felt had not Mr. Fabian invented a rumor to the effect that he, Aaron Rockharrt, was addressing her.

He looked at the lady on his left critically. Yes; she was very beautiful--very beautiful indeed! And, of course, she would accept him at once if he should offer her his hand! Very beautiful! A tall, finely rounded, radiant blonde, with a suit of warm auburn hair, which she wore in a ma.s.s of puffs and coils high on her head; a brilliant, blooming complexion, damask rose cheeks, redder lips, blue eyes, and a pure, fine Roman profile--that means, among the rest, a hooked nose--a very elegant and aristocratic nose indeed, but still a hooked nose. She carried her head high, and her well turned chin a little forward, her lip a little curled. All that meant a high spirit, intolerance of authority, and danger, much danger, to a would-be despot. Oh! very handsome, and very willing to marry the old millionaire. But--no! the Iron King thought not! She would give him too much trouble in the process of subjugation. He would none of her.

Cadet Haught, watching this pair from the opposite side of the table, whispered to his sister, who sat on his right:

"As I live by bread, Cora, there is the aged monarch flirting with the handsome widow! A thing unparalleled in human history. Or is it dreaming I am?"

Cora lifted her languid dark eyes, looked across the table and answered:

"She is trying to flirt with him, I rather fancy."

"Wasted ammunition, eh, Cora?"

"I do not know," replied the young lady.

And then the increasing talk and laughter all around the table rendered any tete-a-tete difficult or impossible. And now began the toast drinking and the speech making. It need not be told how Mr. Rockharrt toasted the bride, how the chief justice responded in behalf of his late ward, how Mr. Fabian toasted the bridesmaids, how Mr. Clarence responded on the part of the young ladies, how with this and that and the other observance of forms, the breakfast came to an end and the bishop gave thanks.

The bride retired to change her dress for a traveling suit of navy blue poplin, with hat and feather to match, and a cashmere wrap. Then came the leave-taking, and the jubilant bridegroom handed his bride into the elegant carriage, while his best man, Clarence, gave the last order.

"To the railway station."

This was the final farewell, for Mr. Fabian had asked as a particular favor that no one of the wedding party should attend them to the depot.

Their luggage had been sent on hours before, in charge of the maid and the valet. Half an hour's drive brought them to the station in time to catch the 3:30 train East.

"At last, at last I have you away from all those people and all to myself!" exulted Fabian, as he seated his wife in the corner of the car, and turned the opposite seat that they might have no near fellow pa.s.senger. For as yet palace cars were not.

The maid and valet were seated on the opposite side of the car.

The train started.

The speed was swift, yet seemed slow. It was the way train they were on, and it stopped at every little station. They could not have got an express before midnight, and that would have been perilous to their chance of catching the steamer on which their pa.s.sage to Europe was engaged.

The journey was made without events until about sunset, when the train reached the little mountain station of Edenheights, where it stopped twenty minutes for refreshments.

"What a lovely scene!" said the bride, looking down from the window on her left, into the depths of a small valley lighted up by the last rays of the setting sun streaming through the opening between two wooded hills.

"Yes, dear, lovely, if I can think anything lovely besides yourself," he replied.

"Look, what a sweet cottage that is almost hidden among the trees. An elegant cottage of white freestone built after the Grecian order. How strange, Fabian, to find such a bijou here in this wild, remote section."

"Probably the residence of some well-to-do official connected with our works," said Mr. Fabian, carelessly; then--"Will you come out to the refreshment rooms and have some tea? See, they are on the opposite side of the train."

Violet turned and looked on a very different scene. No wooded and secluded valley with its one lovely cottage, but a row of open saloons and restaurants, crowded and noisy.

"No; I think I will not go in there. It is not pretty. You may send me a cup of tea. I will sit here and enjoy this beautiful valley scene. And oh, Fabian! Look there, coming up the hillside, what a beautiful woman!"

Mr. Fabian looked out and saw and recognized Rose Stillwater and saw that she had recognized him. She was coming directly toward the train.

"Sit here, my love; I will go and bring you some refreshments. Don't attempt to get out, dearest; to do so might be dangerous. I will not be long," he said, hastily, and rising, he hurried after the other pa.s.sengers out of the car.

But instead of going into the railway restaurant he went back to the rear of the train, placed himself where he stood out of sight of his wife and of all his fellow pa.s.sengers, yet in full view of the approaching woman.

"What devil brings that serpent here?" he muttered to himself. "I must intercept her. She must not go on board the train. She must not approach my little wood violet. Good heavens, no!"

But the woman turned aside voluntarily from her course to the stationary train and walked directly toward himself.

"Well, Rose," he said, in as pleasant a voice as his perturbation of mind would permit him to use.

"Well, Fabian," she answered.

She was as white and hard as marble; her lips when she ceased to speak were closed tightly, her blue eyes blazed from her hard, white face.

"What brings you here?" he inquired.

"What brings me here, indeed! To see you. Only this morning I heard of your intended business. Only this morning, after the morning train had left. If there had been another train within an hour or two, I should have taken it and gone to the city and should have been in time to stop the wicked wedding."