University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.
MARRIAGE AT ST. JOHN'S.

THERE were more than a few lookers-on to see
Katy Lennox married, and the church was literally
jammed for full three-quarters of an hour before
the appointed time. Back by the door, where
she commanded a full view of the middle aisle, Marian Hazelton

sat, her face as white as ashes, and her eyes gleaming
strangely wild from beneath the thickly dotted veil
she wore over her hat. Doubts as to her wisdom in
coming there were agitating her mind, but something
kept her sitting just as others sat waiting for the bride
until the sexton, opening wide the doors, and assuming
an added air of consequence, told the anxious spectators
that the party had arrived—Uncle Ephraim and Katy,
Wilford and Mrs. Lennox, Dr. Morris and Helen, Aunt
Hannah and Aunt Betsy—that was all, and they came
slowly up the aisle, while countless eyes were turned
upon them, every woman noticing Katy's dress sweeping
the carpet with so long a trail, and knowing by some
queer female instinct that it was city-made, and not the
handiwork of Marian Hazelton, panting for breath in
that pew near the door, and trying to forget herself by
watching Dr. Grant. She could not have told what
Katy wore; she would not have sworn that Katy was
there, for she saw only two, Wilford and Morris Grant.
She could have touched the former as he passed her by,
and she did breathe the odor of his garments while her
hands clasped each other tightly, and then she turned
to Morris Grant, growing content with her own pain, so
much less than his as he stood before the altar with Wilford
Cameron between him and the bride which should
have been his. How pretty she was in her wedding
garb, and how like a bird her voice rang out as she responded
to the solemn question,

“Will you have this man to be thy wedded husband,”
etc.

Upon Uncle Ephraim devolved the duty of giving her
away, a thing which Aunt Betsy denounced as a “'Piscopal
quirk,” classing it in the same category with dancing.
Still if Ephraim had got it to do she wanted him
to do it well, and she had taken some pains to study that
part of the ceremony, so as to know when to nudge her
brother in case he failed of coming up to time.

“Now, Ephraim, now; they've reached the quirk,” she
whispered, audibly, almost before Katy's “I will” was
heard, clear and distinct; but Ephraim did not need her
prompting, and his hand rested lovingly upon Katy's
shoulder as he signified his consent, and then fell back

to his place next to Hannah. But when Wilford's voice
said, “I, Wilford, take thee Katy to be my wedded wife,”
there was a slight confusion near the door, and those
sitting by said to those in front that some one had
fainted. Looking round, the audience saw the sexton
leading Marian Hazelton out into the open air, where, at
her request, he left her, and went back to see the closing
of the ceremony which made Katy Lennox a wife. Morris's
carriage was at the door, and the newly married
pair moved slowly out, Katy smiling upon all, kissing her
hand to some and whispering a good-bye to others, her
diamonds flashing in the light and her rich silk rustling as
she walked, while at her side was Wilford, proudly erect,
and holding his head so high as not to see one of the
crowd around him, until, arrived at the vestibule, he
stopped a moment and was seized by a young man with
eurling hair, saucy eyes, and that air of ease and assurance
which betokens high breeding and wealth.

“Mark Ray!” was Wilford's astonished exclamation,
while Mark Ray replied,

“You did not expect to see me here, neither did I expect
to come until last night, when I found myself in the
little villiage where you know Scranton lives. Then it
occurred to me that as Silverton was only a few miles
distant I would drive over and surprise you, but I am too
late for the ceremony, I see,” and Mark's eyes rested admiringly
upon Katy, whose graceful beauty was fully
equal to what he had imagined.

Very modestly she received his congratulatory greeting,
blushing prettily when he called her by the new name
she had not heard before, and then, at a motion from
Wilford, entered the carriage waiting for her. Close behind
her came Morris and Helen, the former quite as
much astonished at meeting Mark as Wilford had been.
There was no time for conversation, and hurriedly introducing
Helen as Miss Lennox, Morris followed her into
the carriage with the bridal pair, and was driven to the
depot, where they were joined by Mark, whose pleasant,
good-humored sallies did much towards making the parting
more cheerful than it would otherwise have been. It
was sad enough at the most, and Katy's eyes were very
red, while Wilford was beginning to look chagrined and

and impatient, when at last the train swept round the
corner and the very last good-bye was said. Many of
the village people were there to see Katy off, and in the
crowd Mark had no means of distinguishing the Barlows
from the others, except it were by the fond caresses given
to the bride. Aunt Betsy he had observed from all the
rest, both from the hanging of her pongee and the general
quaintness of her attire, and thinking it just possible
that it might be the lady of herrin' bone memory, he
touched Wilford's arm as she passed them by, and said,

“Tell me, Will, quick, who is that woman in the poke
bonnet and short, slim dress?”

Wilford was just then too much occupied in his efforts
to rescue Katy from the crowd of plebeians who had
seized upon her to hear his friend's query, but Helen
heard it, and with a cheek which crimsoned with anger,
she replied,

“That, sir, is my aunt, Miss Betsy Barlow.”

“I beg your pardon, I really do. I was not aware—”
Mark began, lifting his hat involuntarily, and mentally
cursing himself for his stupidity in not observing who
was near to him before asking personal questions.

With a toss of her head Helen turned away, forgetting
her resentment in the more absorbing thought that Katy
was leaving her.

The bell had rung, the heavy machinery groaned and
creaked, and the long train was under way, while from
an open window a little white hand was thrust, waving
its handkerchief until the husband quietly drew it in, experiencing
a feeling of relief that all was over, and that
unless he chose his wife need never go back again to that
vulgar crowd standing upon the platform and looking
with tearful eyes and aching hearts after the fast receding
train.

For a moment Mark talked with Morris Grant, explaining
how he came there, and adding that on the morrow
he too intended going on to Boston, to remain for a few
days before Wilford sailed; then, feeling that he must in
some way atone for his awkward speech regarding Aunt
Betsy, he sought out Helen, still standing like a statue
and watching the feathery line of smoke rising above the
distant trees. Her bonnet had partially fallen from her

head, revealing her bands of rich brown hair and the
smooth broad forehead, while her hands were locked together,
and a tear trembled on her dark eye-lashes.
Taken as a whole she made a striking picture standing
apart from the rest and totally oblivious to them all, and
Mark gazed at her a moment curiously; then, as her
attitude changed and she drew her hat back to its place,
he advanced toward her, making some pleasant remark
about the morning and the appearance of the country
generally. He knew he could not openly apologize, but
he made what amends he could by talking to her so
familiarly that Helen almost forgot how she hated him
and all others who like him lived in New York and resembled
Wilford Cameron. It was Mark who led her
to the carriage which Morris said was waiting. Mark
who handed her in, smoothing down the folds of her
dress, and then stood leaning against the door, chatting
with Morris, who thought once of asking him to enter
and go back to Linwood. But when he remembered
how unequal he was to entertaining any one that day, he
said merely,

“On your way from Boston, call and see me. I shall
be glad of your company then.”

“Which means that you do not wish it now,” Mark
laughingly rejoined, as, offering his hand to both Morris
and Helen, he touched his hat and walked away.