CHAPTER XIX.
THE WEDDING.
"I've got the greatest piece of news for you, you ever heard!" criedMarion, bursting into the room where Florence, Rachel, Mattie, and Sarahwere sitting one morning in the early part of June. "Guess who'sengaged?"
"Engaged!" echoed Sarah; "I'm sure I don't know."
"Yourself," said Mattie.
"Oh, pshaw! don't be ridiculous!" said Marion. "Come now, girls, guesssomebody rational."
"Well, aren't you rational, I should like to know?" asked Rachel.
"I shouldn't be if I were engaged," retorted Marion; "but guess now;every one but Florence, for I think she would guess right."
"Oh, tell us, Flo, do," urged Sarah; "Marion will keep it all night."
"No, I won't," cried Marion; "it's _Miss Christine_."
"Miss Christine!" shouted every girl, jumping to her feet inastonishment,--"to whom?"
"Why, M. Beranger, of course," said Florence; "who else could it be?"
"Why, I never thought of such a thing," said Rachel.
"Well, I don't know where your eyes have been," said Marion; "for I'vesuspected it a long time, and so has Florence."
"Oh, I thought he liked her, and she him; but I never thought of_that_."
"Well, I think it is perfectly horrid!" declared Sarah.
"Why, Sallie, what do you mean?" said Marion; "I think it's splendid."
"Oh, of course, it's all very nice for you girls who are going away atthe end of the term; but here I've got to stay another year, and I shall_die_ without Miss Christine!"
"But you'll have her just the same," said Marion; "they're going to livehere for a year at least; it almost makes me want to come back again."
"Going to live here?" cried Sarah, clasping her hands with delight;"then I _do_ think it's perfectly magnificent!"
"Tell us all about it, Marion," asked Mattie; "how did you know it?"
"Miss Christine told me herself. You ought to have seen how pretty shelooked! She blushed like any girl, and I just threw my arms round herand gave her a good hug. She told me I might tell the girls who weregoing to leave this term; but she didn't want the others to know it atpresent, and here I've been, and let the cat out of the bag; for Ididn't see Sallie when I came in, and never dreamed she was here.Sallie, if you lisp a word of it, I'll have you shut up, and kept onbread and water for a week, and you shan't go to the wedding."
"Is she going to be married during school?"
"I shouldn't wonder; but I couldn't get it out of her when. Now, girls,we must give her a handsome present."
"It ought to be from the whole school," suggested Florence.
"Yes, so I think; but don't you think it would be nice if we six girls,who have been here four years together, should all work her something?My idea is to make an ottoman: one work the middle, four the corners,and the other fill it up; what do you say?"
"A capital idea!" said Mattie; "and I choose the filling up, for that'sthe only part I like to do."
"You're welcome to it," said Marion, "for we all hate it."
"Mab, couldn't you design it yourself?" asked Florence; "it would be somuch 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'tyou? 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 thefirst time why the girls call you Mab. I always thought it was such aqueer nickname for Marion."
"Why, didn't you know?" answered Marion. "M. A. B., Marion AscottBerkley; but I never write my whole name; I like just the two, MarionBerkley, 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 sortof--well--but now you're kind of--I don't exactly know what, butdifferent from the other."
"Sallie, you are a goose!" laughed Marion, as Sarah's lucid descriptionof the change in her character produced a shout from the girls. "I shallhave to muzzle you until you manage your tongue better;" and quick as aflash Marion seized her satchel, and clapped it over Sarah's head, whoresisted violently; "will you be a good girl if I let you out?"
"Yes! yes!" cried Sallie, from the inside of the bag, her voice almostdrowned 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, brushing the hair out of hereyes.
"Take care!" laughed Marion, shaking the satchel at Sarah; "you knowwhat 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 wedid;" and down they all went.
Miss Christine's engagement did not long remain a secret, and when theknowledge became general, the little woman was fairly showered withkisses and caresses. Her scholars had almost worshipped her before, butnow she seemed invested with a new importance, and was quite envelopedin a perpetual incense of love and admiration. M. Beranger, in thecomparatively short time he had been with them, had won the respect ofall his pupils; but now that he was going to marry their Miss Christinethey made a perfect hero of him.
It came out, at last, that the marriage was to take place the last dayof June, two days later than the usual one for closing school. MissChristine'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 thegirls all begged her to have a "regular wedding," as they called it, andshe had consented.
Every one of the scholars was perfectly delighted at the idea of stayingover to the wedding, and all were anxiously looking forward to theimportant day. Invitations were sent to those of the parents with whomMiss Christine was personally acquainted, and the girls had great funplanning and replanning how all the guests were to be accommodated forthe night, as they would have to come the night previous. Great was thedelight of Marion, when Miss Christine told her that she wanted the sixgraduates to be her bridesmaids, and she immediately ran off to find thegirls and plan their dresses. They had been as busy as bees ever sincethey knew of the engagement; there were but a few stitches more to setin the ottoman, and it was to be sent the next day to Mrs. Berkley, whowas to get it mounted, and bring it up when she came.
As many of the scholars were very wealthy, while the parents of otherswere in moderate circumstances, Marion had suggested that allcontributions for the present, from the whole school, should be put intoa closed box, through a hole in the cover, thus preventing any one fromhaving an uncomfortable consciousness that she had not been able to giveas much as another. When the box was opened, it was found to contain avery large sum. This was forwarded by Marion, who seemed by generalconsent to be considered chief of the committee of arrangements, to hermother, with directions to use it in the purchase of a plain, buthandsome, gold watch and chain. There proved to be a surplus fund, withwhich Mrs. Berkley bought a large album, in which were placedphotographs of all the girls in the school.
Miss Stiefbach had so much to occupy her mind, that several times duringthe week of the wedding she was actually seen to hurry through the hall,quite forgetful of her usual dignified glide. In fact, she seemed quiteanother person; the prospect of her sister's happiness had wrought agreat change in her, and made her quite unbend to those around her.
Aunt Bettie came down several times with butter and eggs, never goingaway without getting a glimpse of Marion, and for three or four daysbefore _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, withseveral other fathers and mothers, had arrived the night previous, andevery nook and corner of the house was filled to overflowing. Some ofthe
scholars slept three in a bed, others on mattresses laid on thefloor; but no one thought of complaining, and the more inconveniencethey had to put up with, the better they seemed to like it; for wasn'tit all for their Miss Christine?
The six bridesmaids, with the other older girls, had been busy everymoment of the day before, making wreaths of wild flowers and roses;these they hung early in the morning all over the lower part of thehouse. The folding-doors were festooned, and trimmed with an arch offlowers, and the walls of the little room back of them, in which MissChristine was to stand to receive her friends, were perfectly coveredwith wreaths, garlands, and bouquets; so that it looked like a fairybower.
They had also decorated the church, although of that neither MissStiefbach nor Miss Christine was as yet aware. The chancel-rail wastrimmed with garlands of white flowers; down the aisle were four arches,the one at the door being of bright, glowing colors, and each onegrowing paler, until the one in front of the altar was of pure, bridalwhite, and over that hung a "marriage bell" of marguerites.
The girls had had to work hard, and had scoured the country far and nearfor flowers; but they had done everything themselves, and not a bud wastwined in those decorations that did not take with it a loving thoughtof the dear little woman in whose honor they were made.
At last everything was completed; the bridesmaids were all dressed, andcollected in Marion's room, putting on their gloves, and Marion had goneto put on the bridal veil,--a favor which she had begged, and which hadbeen most readily granted; in a few moments that was done and the partystarted for the church, where Miss Stiefbach and her guests were alreadyarrived. I doubt if it would be possible to find a prettier bridal partyin all the world, than entered that little church that glorious Junemorning. First came Mattie Denton and Grace Minton; then Julia Thayerand Alice Howard; then Marion and Florence, and directly behind them M.Beranger and Miss Christine. The bridesmaids wore simple white muslins,short, the upper skirts looped with clematis and rose-buds, and delicatewreaths of the same in their hair. The bride also wore white muslin,over which hung the bridal veil of tulle, put on with a wreath ofnatural orange-blossoms and myrtle, the work of Marion's hands.
M. Beranger looked, and acted like a prince about to take possession ofhis kingdom, and his clear "I vill" could be heard in every part of thechurch. But the ceremony was soon over; the bridal party turned andfaced the eager, happy faces before them, and passed slowly down underthe arches of lovely flowers, out into the sunlight, the organ pealingforth the glorious old wedding-march. Such a wedding-reception was neverseen before! There were no dignified ushers to lead you decorously up tothe bride, and whisk you off again before you got an idea into yourhead; and if there had been, they would have been tremendously snubbedby that throng of impetuous girls, who all crowded round MissChristine, or rather Madame Beranger, each one eager for the first kiss.All formality was set aside; every one was radiantly happy, and,literally, everything went merry as a marriage bell.
It would be useless to attempt to describe Miss Christine's delight ather many presents; for, in addition to those I have already mentioned,almost every girl in the school gave her some little thing she had madeherself. M. Beranger also received many proofs of their regard.
But the time soon arrived when the bride and bridesmaids, who were toleave in the Boston train that afternoon, had to go and change theirdresses. The girls' trunks were all packed, and there was little enoughtime for the adieus which naturally accompanied a final departure fromschool. The carriage for the bride was at the door, and behind itseveral wagons, of various descriptions, for the bridesmaids and theirfriends. Miss Christine came down, looking so lovely, in her graytravelling-suit, that there was a perfect rush at her for the finalgood-by; but the last one was said, and in a moment she and her husbandwere in the carriage and off. Sarah Brown threw an old shoe after themfor good luck, the wagons followed on, and the whole party started downthe road, amid the shouts and cheers of the girls, who crowded on to thepiazza, almost hiding poor Miss Stiefbach, as they waved theirhandkerchiefs, and threw their farewell kisses in the air.
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