No one, indeed, dared to speak to her on the subject, and Mary was even afraid lest she might appear in black on the following day.We all know in what condition is a house on the eve of a marriage,--how the bride feels that all the world is going to be changed, and that therefore everything is for the moment disjointed; and how the rest of the household, including the servants, are led to share the feeling.Everett was of course away.He was over at Longbarns with the Fletchers, and was to be brought to Wharton Church on the following morning.Old Mrs Fletcher was at Wharton Hall,--and the bishop, whose services had been happily secured.He was formally introduced to Mrs Lopez, the use of the name for the occasion being absolutely necessary, and with all the smiling urbanity, which as a bishop he was bound to possess, he was hardly able not to be funereal as he looked at her and remembered her story.Before the evening was over Mrs Fletcher did venture to give a hint.'We are so glad you have come, my dear.'
'I could not stay away when Everett said he wished it.'
'It would have been very wrong; yes, my dear,--wrong.It is your duty, and the duty of us all, to subordinate our feelings to those of others.Even sorrow may be selfish.' Poor Emily listened, but could make no reply.'It is sometimes harder for us to be mindful of others in our grief than in our joy.You should remember, dear, that there are some who will never be light-hearted till they see you smile.'
'Do not say that, Mrs Fletcher.'
'It is quite true;--and right that you should think of it.It will be particularly necessary that you should think of it to-morrow.You will have to wear a light dress, and--'
'I have come provided,' said the widow.
'Try then to make you heart as light as your frock.You will be doing it for Everett's sake, and for your father's, and for Mary's sake--and Arthur's.You will be doing it for the sake of all of us on a day that should be joyous.' She could not make any promise in reply to this homily, but in her heart of hearts she acknowledged that it was true, and declared to herself that she would make the effort required of her.
On the following morning the house was of course in confusion.
There was to be a breakfast after the service, and after the breakfast the bride was to be taken away in a carriage and four as far as Hereford on her route to Paris;--but before the great breakfast there was of course a subsidiary breakfast,--or how could a bishop, bride, or bridesmaids have sustained the ceremony? At this meal Emily did not appear, having begged for a cup of tea in her own room.The carriages to take the party to the church, which was but the other side of the park, were ordered at eleven, and at a quarter before eleven she appeared for the first time in her grey silk dress, and without a widow's cap.Everything was very plain, but the alteration was so great that it was impossible not to look at her.Even her father had not seen the change before.Not a word was said, though old Mrs Fletcher's thanks were implied by the graciousness of her smile.
As there were four bridesmaids and four other ladies besides the bride herself, in a few minutes she became obscured by the brightness of the others,--and then they were all packed in their carriages and taken to the church.The eyes which she most dreaded did not meet hers till they were all standing round the altar.It was only then that she saw Arthur Fletcher, who was there as her brother's best man, and it was then that he took her hand and held it for half a minute as though he never meant to part with it, hidden behind the widespread glories of the bridesmaids' finery.
The marriage was sweet and solemn as a kind-hearted bishop could make it, and all the ladies looked particularly well.The veil from London--with the orange wreath, also metropolitan--was perfect, and as for the dress, I doubt whether any woman would have it known it to be provincial.Everett looked the rising baronet, every inch of him, and the old barrister smiled and seemed, at least, to be well pleased.Then came the breakfast, and the speech-******, in which Arthur Fletcher shone triumphantly.It was a very nice wedding, and Mary Wharton--as she then and still was--felt herself for a moment to be a heroine.But, through it all, there was present to the hearts of most of them a feeling that much more was to be effected, if possible, than this ****** and cosy marriage, and that the fate of Mary Wharton was hardly so important to them as that of Emily Lopez.
When the carriage and four was gone there came upon the household the difficulty usual on such occasions of getting through the rest of the day.The bridesmaids retired and repacked their splendours so that they might come out fresh for other second-rate needs, and with the bridesmaids went the widow.Arthur Fletcher remained at Wharton with all the other Fletchers for the night, and was prepared to renew his suit on that very day, if an opportunity were given him, but Emily did not again show herself till a few minutes before dinner, and then she came down with all the appurtenances of mourning which she usually wore.The grey silk had been put on for the marriage ceremony, and for that only.'You should have kept your dress at any rate for the day,'
said Mrs Fletcher.She replied that she had changed it for Everett, and that as Everett was gone there was no further need for to wear clothes unfitted for her position.Arthur would have cared very little for the clothes could he have had his way with the woman who wore them;--could he have had his way even so far as to have found himself alone with her for half-an-hour.But no such chance was his.She retreated from the party early, and did not show herself on the following morning till after he had started for Longbarns.
