Chapter XXIV

by Mary Jane Holmes

　　THE WEDDING

　　The autumn months were gone; December had come and "Christmas was coming."The negroes far and near had counted the days which must pass before theirexpected holidays. In Uncle Joshua's kitchen there was much talking andlaughing, fixing and fussing, and some crying. Had you asked the cause ofthe crying, you would have been told that Miss Fanny was to be marriedChristmas Eve, and the week following she would leave them and start forNew Orleans.

　　Preparations commenced on a large scale; for Uncle Joshua, a little proud,it may be, of his handsome house, had determined on a large party. The oldgentleman even went so far as to order for himself a new suit ofbroadcloth, saying by way of apology that, "though the jeens coat andbagging pants did well enough for Josh, they wouldn't answer nohow for thefather of Mrs. Dr. George Lacey."

　　A week before the wedding Florence, who loved dearly to be in a bustle,came laden with bandboxes and carpet bags. Hourly through the house rangher merry laugh, as she flitted hither and thither, actually doing nothingin her zeal to do everything. She had consented to be bridesmaid oncondition that she should choose her own groomsman, who she said should be"Uncle Billy," as she always called Mr. William Middleton, "unlessProvidence sent her some one she liked better." Whether it were owing toProvidence or to an invitation which went from Florence to New York we areunable to say, but two days before the 24th Uncle Joshua surprisedFlorence and Fanny by opening the door of the room where they weresitting, and saying, "Ho, my boy, here they be--come on."

　　The girls started up, and in a moment Frank stood between them, with anarm thrown around each. "Why, Mr. Cameron," said Florence, "what did youcome for, and who knew you were coming?"

　　"I came to see you, and you knew I was coming," answered Frank.

　　"Well, then," returned Florence, "if you came to see me, do look at me,and not keep your eyes fixed so continually on Fanny. In a few days youwill be breaking the commandment which says: 'Thou shalt not covet thyneighbor's wife.'"

　　"Possibly I might had I never seen you," answered Frank.

　　At a late hour that night Florence moved with soft footsteps about hersleeping room, fearing lest she should awaken Fanny. Her precautions wereuseless, for Fanny was awake; looking at Florence, she said, "Oh, Flory,you naughty girl, what makes you blush so dreadfully?"

　　The next half hour was spent by Florence in telling Fanny what Frank hadjust asked her in four or five words, and which she had answered in one,viz., if she would be his wife. "But then," said Florence, pretending topout, "he was so conscientious that he had to tell me what I already knew,which was that he once loved you better than he should ever love another."

　　Frank had asked Florence to share his lot through life, and she, like anyother good, prompt Kentucky girl, had readily answered "yes," although shewas frightened next moment for fear she had been too easily won by the"cold Yankee," as she called him, and she proposed taking back what shesaid just for the sake of being teased. Mr. Woodburn came next day tobring Florence some article of dress, which she would need. He was notsurprised when Frank, taking him aside, modestly asked for his daughter;he said, "Yes," almost as readily as Florence had done, and then it washard telling which seemed most happy--Frank or Dr. Lacey.

　　The 24th of December came at last. We at the North who, during six monthsof the year, blow our benumbed fingers, can scarcely imagine how brightand beautiful are some of the clear warm days of a Kentucky winter. Onthis occasion, as if Nature had resolved to do her best, the day was softand sunny as in early autumn, presenting a striking contrast to the wild,angry storm which rent the sky when once more 'neath Uncle Joshua's roof abridal party was assembled.

　　As night approached, carriage after carriage rolled up the long, graveledpathway, until Ike declared, "Thar was no more room in the barns, and ifany more came he'd have to drive them into the kitchen."

　　Up and down the broad stairway tripped light and joyous footsteps untilthe rooms above, which Luce had put in so exact order, presented a sceneof complete confusion. Bandboxes were turned bottom-side up and theircontents indiscriminately scattered until it was impossible to tell whatwas yours and what wasn't.

　　At length through the parlor door came Dr. Lacey and Fanny, followed byFrank Cameron and Florence. Throughout the rooms was a solemn hush asFanny was made Dr. Lacey's wife. Firmly Dr. Lacey held her hand until thelast word was spoken; then when he felt sure that she was his, he stoopeddown and whispered in her ear, "Thank God that you are mine at last."

　　Three days after the wedding Mr. Middleton's carriage again stood beforethe door. When all was ready, Uncle Joshua knelt down, and winding his armaround Fanny, prayed in simple, touching language that God would protecthis Sunshine, and at last bring them all to the same home. "All of us; anddon't let one be missing thar." There was a peculiar pathos in the tone ofhis voice as he said the last words, and all knew to whom he referred.

　　Long and wearisome at Mr. Middleton's were the days succeeding Fanny'sdeparture, while in Dr. Lacey's home all was joy and gladness.

　　It was about dark when Dr. Lacey arrived. Happy as a bird, Fanny sprang upthe steps. Everything about her seemed homelike and cheerful. Kind, duskyfaces peered at her from every corner, while Aunt Dilsey, with acomplacent smile, stood ready to receive her. Fanny was prepared to likeeverything, but there was something peculiarly pleasing to her in AuntDilsey's broad, good-humored face. Going up to her she took both herhands, and said, "I know we shall be good friends. I shall like you andyou shall love me a little, won't you, just as the old aunties did I leftin Kentucky?"

　　Aunt Dilsey hadn't expected all this, and the poor creature burst intotears, saying, "Lord bless the sweet miss! I'd die for her this minute, Iwould."

　　Rondeau, Leffie and the other blacks belonging to the establishment, nowcame forward, and in the crowd little Jack's bow was entirelyunappreciated; but Fanny next day made amends by giving him nearly a poundof candy, which had the effect of making him sick a week, but he got wellin time to be present at Leffie's wedding, which took place just a weekafter Dr. Lacey's return.

　　Leffie, who chanced to be just the size of her young mistress, was throwninto ecstasies by the gift of a thin pink and white silk dress, whichFanny presented to her for a bridal gown. Aunt Dilsey, in order to showher thanks, went down on her knees, a thing she never attempted again, asit took her such an unheard-of length of time to recover a standingposture. Dr. Lacey had made Leffie the present of a pair of gold earrings,so that she was really a pretty bride, and Rondeau was the happiest negroin all New Orleans.

　　As weddings seem to be the order of this chapter, we may here, as well asanywhere, dispose of Mrs. Carrington, whom, you will remember, Raymondsaid he would one day marry. When he left Frankfort, he had no definiteidea as to what he should do, but after reaching Cincinnati, it occured tohim that his mother had a wealthy old bachelor uncle living in St. Louis,and thither he determined to go. This uncle, Mr. Dunlap, received theyoung man cordially, for he was the first relative he had met with inyears. There was something, too, in the manner with which Raymondintroduced himself that won for him a place in the crusty old man's goodopinion.

　　"I am Fred Raymond," said he, "your niece Helen's son, and as poor a jackas there is this side of California. They say you are a stingy oldcustomer, but I don't care for that. You have got to give me somebusiness, and a home, too."

　　Raymond's method of approaching the old gentleman was successful, and heat once gave him a good position, which later developed into apartnership.

　　Feeling himself established and finding Mrs. Carrington in St. Louis,Raymond pressed his suit, and they were eventually married.

　　The couple were disappointed in their expectations of a fortune, forwithin two years after the marriage Mr. Dunlap suddenly died. He hadintended to make his will and make Raymond his heir, but like many othermen he put it off until it was too late, and his property, which was foundto be less than supposed, went back to his brothers and sisters, and fromthem to their children and grandchildren, so that Raymond got but a smallshare.

　　He, however, retained his position as a merchant, and struggled hard tokeep his wife in the same circumstances to which she had been accustomed.She appreciated his kindness, and when at the end of three years she wasthe mother of three children, she concluded it was time to lay aside alldesire for fashionable amusements, and she became a tolerably affectionatewife, and a wonderfully indulgent mother.