University of Virginia Library

56. CHAPTER LVI.
THE BRIDAL.

MILLBANK was ready at last for its new mistress. But
few changes had been made, and these in the library
and the suite of rooms set apart for the bride. Her
tastes were simpler than Bell's, and some of the gorgeous trappings
had been removed and soberer ones put in their place.
The house at Schodick had been despoiled of a portion of its
furniture, which now formed a part of Millbank; Jessie's picture
and the candle-box cradle were both brought back, and
Hester had the little quilt safe in her trunk, and had bought a
new gray satin dress for the wedding party to be given at Millbank,
September 15th, the day after the bridal. The idea of
gray satin Hester had gotten from Mrs. Penelope Seymour, who
came to Millbank to see that everything was as it should be for
the reception of her niece. She had stayed three days and
nights, and Hester had admired her greatly and copied her
dress, and had it made in Springfield, and fitted over hoops and
cotton, and then tried to fix up Aleck into something a little
more modern. But Aleck was incorrigible, and would wear
his short pants and cowhide shoes tied with leather strings,
and so she gave him up, and comforted herself with the fact
that he stayed mostly in his room, and would not run much
risk of being laughed at by the “grandees” expected with
the bridal party from New York.

Roger had already gone to Beechwood, where Magdalen was
waiting for him. It was his first visit there, and there were

strange thoughts crowding upon his mind as he rode up
the mountain side toward the house which had been built
for his mother, and whither she once hoped to come as a
bride. Now she was dead, her grave the ocean bed, her shroud
the ocean grass, and he, her son, was going for his bride, the
daughter of Arthur Grey. “Surely the ways of Providence are
inscrutable; who can know them?” he said, just as a turn in
the road brought the house and grounds fully into view, together
with Magdalen, who, in her evening dress of white, was standing
on the piazza, her face glowing with health and beauty and
eager expectation. Very joyfully she received him, and leading
him into the house presented him to Alice and her aunt, and
then went for her little nephew, whom she brought to his
“Uncle Roger.”

They were a very merry party at Beechwood that night, and
not a shadow rested on the hearts of any one. It was better
that Laura should be gone, better for her, better for them all;
and when Magdalen saw how white Roger turned at the sight
of her father's picture, she felt that it was well perhaps that he,
too, was dead, for the two men could not have been wholly congenial
to each other. The bridal was the next day but one, and
Magdalen in her plain travelling dress was very beautiful, as
she pledged herself to the man whose face wore a look of perfect
peace and thankfulness as he clasped her hand and knew
it was his forever. He made no demonstrations before the
people, but when for a moment they were alone, as she went
up for her hat and shawl, he opened his arms to her, and clasping
her tightly to his bosom, showered his kisses upon her face
and hands and hair, and called her his precious wife, his
darling, won at last after many years of sorrow.

They went to New York that night, and the next day arrived
at Millbank, with Mrs. Seymour, Guy, and Alice, and a few
friends, the Dagons and Draggons, whose quiet, unostentatious
elegance of manner created quite as great a sensation as Mrs
Walter Scott's more showy guests had done when her son was

the groom and Bell Burleigh the bride. Roger had given his
men a holiday, and had ordered a dinner for them upon the
Millbank grounds, but he had not hinted at a demonstration
or bonfire, and was surprised when the New York train came
round the bend in the meadow to see the crowds and crowds
of people assembled before the depot, some on the fence, some
on the woodpile, some on the platform, and all glad and excited
and eager to see him. The Belvidere Band was there also, and
preceded the carriage up to the house, which had never seemed
so pleasant and desirable to Roger as now, when he came back
to it with Magdalen, and felt that both were his beyond a possibility
of doubt. Old Hester received them, and no one but
herself was allowed to remove the bride's wrappings, or conduct
her to her room. Hester was in her element, and Mrs. Walter
Scott never bore herself more proudly than did the old lady on
that eventful day, when she seemed suddenly to have grown
young again, and to be in every place at once, her cap-strings
flying behind her, and her black silk pinned about her waist.
The gray was reserved for the evening, when, instead of a
party proper, to which a few were bidden, a general reception
was held, which all were welcome to attend. There was a great
crowd, for rich and poor, old and young, plebeian and aristocrat,
came to pay their respects to the newly married pair; but not
a rude thing was done, or a rough word spoken by any one.
Roger, himself, did not know them all, and Magdalen only a
few; but her greeting was just as cordial to one as to another.
Her travelling-dress had been very plain, but this evening she
was radiant in white satin and lace and pearls, with the bridal
veil floating back from her head, and the orange wreath crowning
her shining hair; and those who had never seen such dress
and style before held their breath in wonder, and for months
after talked with pride of the night when all the town was permitted
to see and shake hands with the sweet lady of Millbank,
Mrs. Roger Irving. Roger had forbidden a bonfire, but there
were lanterns hung in the trees all over the grounds, and the
young people danced there upon the floor which had been temporarily
laid down, until midnight was passed, and the moon was
so high in the horizon that the glare of lamps was no longer
needed to light up the festal scene.

Mrs. Franklin Irving had been invited to be present, but
she wisely declined, and sent instead a most exquisite ring to
Magdalen, who let Frank put it upon her finger and kiss her hand
as he did so, a privilege he claimed because the ring was said
to be his gift and Bell's. His wife had conceded so much to him,
though Frank had known nothing of the ring until he saw it in its
velvet box on his wife's bureau. Unlike her, he had no feelings
of delicacy to prevent his being present at Roger's bridal party.
With no business on his hands, and nothing to expect from his
wife besides his board, he was quite as willing to stay at Millbank
as in Boston, and seemed to take it for granted that he
was welcome there. And nobody cared much about his movements
except Hester, who wondered “Why the lazy lout didn't
go to work and earn his own vittles, instead of hangin' on to
Roger. She vummed if she'd stan' it much longer. She'd set
him to work if Roger didn't.”

And so as time went on and Frank still lingered about the
place, Hester gradually impressed him into her service, and
made him do some of the things which Aleck once had done
and which he was unable to do now. Sometimes he brought
water for her, or split her kindlings, or went to the village on
an errand, and did it willingly, too, though he always wore his
gloves, and generally carried his cane and eye-glass, which last
article he had of late adopted. It was Magdalen who finally
interfered and stood between Hester and Frank, and said he
was welcome to remain at Millbank as long as he chose, and
that if Hester had not servants enough another should be procured
at once. This was the first and only time that Magdalen
asserted her right as mistress in opposition to old Hester, who
submitted without a word and ever after left Frank in peace.

September passed quickly, and in the late October days,
when the New England woods were gorgeous with crimson

and gold, and Millbank was still beautiful with its autumn
flowers, Mrs. Franklin Irving came up to visit Mr. and Mrs.
Roger, and was received by them with all the cordiality due
so near a relative. Not by a word or look did she betray
the slightest regret for the past, when she had been mistress
where she was now only a guest. Millbank was to her as any
stranger's house, and she bore herself naturally and pleasantly,
and made herself very agreeable to Roger, and devoted herself
to Magdalen, whom she liked so much, and was civil and almost
kind to her husband, who was still there, and as Hester said,
“just as shiftless as ever.”

Bell saw the state of affairs, and while she despised her husband
more than ever for his indolence and lack of sensibility,
she resolved to give Magdalen a rest, and leave her alone with
Roger for a time; so when in November she returned to Boston,
she invited Frank to go with her, and secured him a place as
book-keeper in a merchant's counting-house, and stimulated
perhaps by the perfect happiness and confidence she had seen
existing between Roger and Magdalen, tried by being kind and
even deferential to him to mould him into something of which
she would not be so terribly ashamed as she was now of the careless,
shambling, listless, lazy man, whom everybody knew as Mrs.
Franklin Irving's husband.