47. CHAPTER XLVII.
ORANGE-BLOSSOMS.
The Wedding Eve of Richard and Melicent was a splendid
one, — splendid in its feelings, in its guests, in its
appointments. All the friends of Richard and all the
friends of Melicent were there, and this was a multitude.
The Father and Mother of Richard were there, and his
early spiritual and intellectual guides, Pastor Harold and
Teacher Willwell. Through an illuminated archway of
trees, and an illuminated portal, the guests swept to bright
chambers, — bright as the day-spring of joy that had arisen
on the house. The brightness flowed down and culminated
in the ample drawing-room, — raying from astrals and wax-lights,
from minstrel hearts and evening-star eyes, from
fragrant flowers and glorified dresses, and, more than all,
from the deep, central fires of holy, fervent felicitation.
Beneath one of the antique arches that garnished the
space on either side of the chimney stood Miss Eyre and
Chassford. Parson Smith was not sorry to be called to
marry Richard and Melicent, and it is said clergymen
generally are happy at weddings, and fond of wedding-cake.
If there was one person in the room not fully penetrated with
the spirit of the occasion, it was Mrs. Melbourne. She had
the habit of saying a wedding was like a funeral; and, as if
to actualize the sentiment, she came out in black.
There entered, to make the vow and receive the convenant
which the State ordains and the Church supports, — which
in all ages has been agreeable to the reason and religion
of mankind, — Richard and Melicent, with their train of
attendants.
The service was simple and affecting, brief and full, edifying
and hopeful. Before the benediction, an appropriate
hymn was sung, led by Mangil, chorister in the Church of
the Redemption. There was a movement as of a flocking
to kiss the bride, when Junia entered the room. The
crowd held back; all eyes were suspended on her, while as
a vision she passed through. She approached the altar-place,
and kissed Melicent. Taking from her breast the
golden cross of Richard, she hung it on Melicent's neck.
She tenderly kissed Richard; it was her first and her last
kiss. She was supported out of the room, and was seen no
more alive on the earth.
The returning and irresistible wave of joy brought the
whole room about the Bride and Groom, and kisses and congratulations
fell upon them, like bouquets at the feet of
Jenny Lind; — we cannot keep that woman out of our mind,
though we have never seen or heard her, and never expect
to do so; — not as if the spot Junia's lips had touched was
holy ground, where no one might tread, but as if her coming
in had been a ray of the sunshine of God on pleasant
fields, where old men and children, young men and maidens,
might freely disport. Cake and wine; — and, lest some
feral reader shall find here a bone to pick with us, we will
tell the whole truth, — it was Cousin Rowena's raspberry
wine; — cake and wine were brought in, and quickly and
pleasantly disposed of. Then followed the Bride Cake; the
May Queen, in this procession of good things, mounted on a
silver basket, and daintily adorned with flowers and shrubbery.
This, appropriated to the unmarried, contained a
diamond ring, with the significance that whoever got the
ring would be married first. Bachelors and maidens were
instantly as wounded birds. Cousin Rowena bit her lip.
She made the cake, and knew where the ring lay, and
superintended the distribution. Barbara got the ring.
This was hardly fair, as she belonged to the house; but
there remained only one piece, and there could be no collusion
about that; and it was to Cousin's mind as if Providence
directed the matter, and she said, slyly, “Take it,
take it;” so the talismanic bauble fell into the hands of
Barbara.
