CHAPTER IX. A WEDDING AT ST. LUKE'S.
The day but one following the party, as Lucy was doing
some shopping down street, she stepped for a moment
into her dress-maker's, Miss Carson's, where she found
three or four of her companions, all eagerly discussing
what seemed to be quite an interesting topic. As Lucy
entered, one of them, turning toward her, said, “Oh,
isn't it strange? Or have'nt you heard?”
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“Heard what?” asked Lucy; and her companion replied,
“Why, Ada Harcourt is going to be married.
Miss Carson is making her the most beautiful traveling
dress, with silk hat to match—”
“Besides three or four elegant silk dresses,” chimed in
another.
“And the most charming morning-gown you ever saw—
apple green, and dark green, striped — and lined with
pink silk,” rejoined a third.
By this time Lucy had sunk into the nearest chair.
The truth had flashed upon her, as it probably has upon
you; but as she did not wish to betray her real emotions,
she forced a little bitter laugh, and said, “St. Leon, I
suppose, is the bridegroom.”
“Yes; who told you?” asked her companion.
“Oh, I've seen it all along,” answered Lucy, carelessly.
“He called with her once at our house!”
“But you did n't invite her to your party,” said mischievous
Bessie Lee, who loved dearly to tease Lucy Dayton.
“You did n't invite her to your party, and so he
left early, and I dare say went straight to Mrs. Harcourt's
and proposed, if he had n't done so before. Now, don't
you wish you'd been more polite to Ada? They say he's
got a cousin south, as rich and handsome as he is, and if
you'd only behaved as you should, who knows what might
have happened!”
Lucy deigned Bessie no reply, and turning to another
young lady, asked, “When is the wedding to be?”
“Next Thursday morning, in the church,” was the answer;
and Bessie Lee again interposed, saying, “Come,
Lucy, I don't believe you have ever returned Ada's call,
and as I am going to see her, and inquire all about that
Cousin Frank, suppose you accompany me, and learn the
particulars of the wedding.”
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“Thank you,” said Lucy; “I don't care enough about
it to take that trouble;” and soon rising, she left the
shop.
If Lucy manifested so much indifference, we wot of
some bright eyes and eager ears, which are willing to
know the particulars, so we will give them, as follows:
When St. Leon left Mr. Dayton's, it was ten o'clock, but
notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, he started for
the small brown house on “Dirt Alley,” where dwelt the
sewing woman and her daughter, who were both busy
on some work which they wished to finish that night.
Ada had stopped for a moment to replenish the fire, when
a knock at the door startled her. Opening it, she saw
St. Leon, and in much surprise said, “Why, I supposed
you were at the party.”
“So I have been,” said he; “but I grew weary, and
left for a more congenial atmosphere;” then advancing
toward Mrs. Harcourt, he took her hand, saying, “Mrs.
Linwood, allow me to address you by your right name
this evening.”
We draw a vail over the explanation which followed —
over the fifty-nine questions asked by Ada concerning
Jenny — and over the one question asked by St. Leon, the
answer to which resulted in the purchase of all those
dresses at Miss Carson's, and the well-founded rumor, that
on Thursday morning a wedding would take place at St.
Luke's church.
Poor Lucy! how disconsolate she felt! St. Leon was
passing from her grasp, and there was no help. On her
way home, she three times heard of the wedding, and of
Ada's real name and former position in life, and each time
her wrath waxed warmer and warmer. Fortunate was it
for Berintha and grandma that neither made her appearance
until tea time, for Lucy was in just the state when
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an explosive storm would surely have followed any remark
addressed to her!
The next day was the Sabbath, and as Lucy entered
the church, the first object which met her eye was St.
Leon, seated in the sewing woman's pew, and Ada tolerably
though not very near him! “How disgusting!”
she hissed between her teeth, as she entered her own
richly cushioned seat, and opened her velvet-bound prayer
book. Precious little of the sermon heard she that day,
for, turn which way she would, she still saw in fancy the
sweet young face of her rival; and it took but a slight
stretch of imagination to bring to view a costly house in
the far off “sunny south,” a troop of servants, a handsome,
noble husband, and the hated Ada the happy mistress
of them all! Before church was out, Lucy was really
sick, and when at home in her room, she did not refuse
the bowl of herb tea which Berintha kindly brought
her, saying “it had cured her when she felt just so.”
The morning of the wedding came, and though Lucy
had determined not to be present, yet as the hour approached
she felt how utterly impossible it would be for
her to stay away; and when at half past eight the doors
were opened, she was among the first who entered the
church, which in a short time was filled. Nine rang
from the old clock in the belfry, and then up the broad
aisle came the bridal party, consisting of Mr. and Mrs.
Graham, Charlie and Anna, Mrs. Harcourt, or Mrs. Linwood,
as we must now call her, St. Leon, and Ada.
“Was there ever a more beautiful bride?” whispered
Bessie Lee; but Lucy made no answer, and as soon as
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the ceremony was concluded she hurried home, feeling
almost in need of some more catnip tea!
In the eleven o'clock train St. Leon with his bride and
her mother started for New Haven, where they spent a
delightful week, and then returned to S—. A few
days were passed at the house of Mr. Graham, and then
they departed for their southern home. As we shall not
again have occasion to speak of them in this story, we will
here say that the following summer they came north, together
with Jenny and Cousin Frank, the latter of whom
was so much pleased with the rosy cheeks, laughing eyes,
and playful manners of Bessie Lee, that when he returned
home, he coaxed her to accompany him; and again was
there a wedding in St. Luke's, and again did Miss Carson
make the bridal outfit, wishing that all New Orleans gentlemen
would come to S— for their wives.
Holmes, Mary Jane, 1825-1907 [1856], The homestead on the hillside, and other tales. (Miller, Orton & Mulligan, New York and Auburn) [word count] [eaf598T].
