Chapter X: A Wedding and Other Incidents

Stuart and Palma were both very glad and very grateful that Mrs. Walling had undertaken all the responsibilities of their cousin’s wedding. They knew that her means were ample, and that Walling & Walling were advancing, and would continue to advance, any sum that Randolph or Judith might require for their personal preparations. They knew also that Mrs. Walling was sincerely delighted with the idea of the wedding celebration at her own house; whereas, had it been settled to come off at the Stuarts’ apartments, Stuart, from impecuniosity, and Palma, from inexperience, would have been very much embarrassed.

Mrs. Walling was in her element selecting a proper trousseau and outfit for Judy.

She came in her carriage every morning to take Palma out shopping with her and Judy. Mrs. Moseley could not accompany the party; not because she was a little way out of town, for the cars ran all the time and would have brought her in in fifteen minutes, but because she was “up to her eyes in business” settling her large family in their new home.

So Mrs. Walling, Palma, and Judy went out together every day, until all the shopping was completed.

Judy’s outfit was a very complete but not a very costly one.

“You know, dear,” Mrs. Walling explained to Palma, “that our little friend is not going at all into society for two or three years to come. The young pair will live very quietly somewhere, to advance their education, before they show themselves to their neighbors at Haymore; and so she will really need little more than a schoolgirl’s ‘kist.’ Her wedding dress, of course, must be a pretty one, and her traveling dress must be very nice, but the others plain and simple and inexpensive.”

Palma agreed to the prudence of all this. And Judy said never a word. She left her affairs entirely in the hands of her two friends.

While the lady shopped for Judy she shopped for herself as well. But, after a day or two, she could not but notice that Palma bought nothing; that she let all the tempting goods, so pretty and so cheap, pass under her admiring eyes unpurchased.

“What is the matter with the young one?” inquired Augusta of herself. “Doesn’t she care for dress at all?” Then she remembered that she had never seen Mrs. Stuart in but two dresses, and very inexpensive ones at that, namely, an India muslin, sometimes, in her evenings at home, and a fine crimson cashmere for visiting. And then it occurred to Augusta Walling that the Stuarts might be in straitened circumstances; and her heart was touched with sympathy for the beautiful young woman who saw so many attractive articles of adornment pass under her eyes or be bought by others without being able to buy one of them. And she wondered how she might make Palma a pretty present without giving offense.

“I hate the rôle of a pretended benefactress. I should shrink from such an imputation. Lovely little creature! how elegant she would look in a ruby velvet, with duchess lace! And she shall have it! Yes, that she shall! And I will take the risk of being snubbed and stood in a corner for my impertinence.”

The outcome of the lady’s resolution was this: After she had set down Palma at the Stuarts’ apartments, and taken Judy home to the Walling house, she set out on a second shopping expedition.

The same night, while Stuart was taking his usual walk up and down the pavement before the house, and Palma sat in her little room stitching fresh edges on frayed collars and cuffs, one of Lovelace & Silkman’s young ladies arrived at the apartment home, followed by a boy with a large bandbox, and asked for Mrs. Cleve Stuart. She was brought up in the elevator and ushered into the presence of Palma, who arose to receive the unexpected visitor, staring a little. The stranger merely nodded to the lady, then, without any preface, she took the bandbox from the boy, set it on a chair, untied, unwrapped and opened it, and took from it a glorious suit of dark, bright blue damassé velvet, trimmed with satin, and spread it over a chair, saying:

“If it is convenient, I would like to have you try it on now, ma’am, so that I may make any alterations that may be necessary before I leave.”

“But I——” began the wondering Palma, when she was suddenly interrupted by the dressmaker exclaiming:

“Oh! I beg your pardon! I forgot!” And she handed a note addressed to Mrs. Cleve Stuart.

Palma took it in perplexity, opened it, and read:

“Beauty to the beautiful! To Palma Stuart, with the true love of
Augusta Walling.”

Palma was touched, melted, delighted all at once. She had never had, nor ever expected to have, so superb a dress. She was but a child in some things. She could not speak for surprise, gratitude and embarrassment.

But the matter-of-fact young woman from the suit department of Lovelace & Silkman’s went on to say:

“We were very sorry that we had not a ruby velvet made up, but the lady who gave us your order said that there would be no time to make up one, and she selected this; and I really think, madam, that this shade of mazarine blue will be quite as becoming to your brunette style as garnet or ruby.”

“It is beautiful! It could not be more beautiful!” exclaimed Palma.

“Will you try it on now?”

Palma arose and the dressmaker helped to relieve her of her cashmere dress and induct her into the velvet.

But slight alteration was necessary—the front breadth shortened, the sleeves shortened, the side seams of the waist taken in—that was all.

The young dressmaker laid off her hat and her wraps, and took from her little hand-bag needle, sewing silk, scissors and thimble, and sat down to work.

Then Palma, having nothing else to occupy herself with while the dressmaker sat there, began idly to rummage among the silver tissue paper in the bottom of the big bandbox, and there she found another box—a smaller one—which she took out to examine. It had her name on it. She opened the box and found a fichu and pocket handkerchief of duchess lace, a pair of the finest white kid gloves, a lovely fan, and a little turban of velvet and satin to match her dress.

The dressmaker soon finished her task, folded the dress, returned it to the box, and took her leave.

Then Palma started up, like the delighted child that she was, opened the box again, took out the elegant dress, spread it all over the sofa to display its beauties to the best advantage, and called in Mrs. Pole to admire it; and when that good woman had risen to as much enthusiasm as she was capable of—for a suit—and returned to her own dominions, Palma still left it there, that Stuart might be regaled with the vision when he should come in.

When Cleve did come in and was shown the present and the note that came with it he looked rather grave; he did not like presents, would much rather that his pretty little wife had continued to wear her shabby red cashmere, rather than be indebted to any one for a sapphire velvet; but it was too late to prevent her acceptance of it now, so he quickly cleared his brow and admired the dress to her heart’s content.

On that same evening Ran was, as usual, spending the hour with Mrs. Walling and Judy. There was no other company. Ran had a secret source of distress, and it was this—his humble, faithful friends down at Markiss’ Hotel, in the lower part of the city. They certainly did not belong to the Walling “set.” Conventionally, they were a long, long way below that set; yet Ran wanted them to be present both at his wedding and at the wedding breakfast, and that wedding was to be celebrated at one of the most “fashionable” churches in the city; and that wedding breakfast was to be given at Mrs. Walling’s. How could Ran ask that very fine lady to invite his humble friends? And, on the other hand, how could he slight those faithful friends? Mike, his brother-in-law expectant, must come, of course; that was to be taken for granted, and then Longman, who had rescued him on the night when he was shot, and who had actually saved his life—Longman ought certainly to come. And, finally, poor old Andrew Quin ought not to be left—the only one—“out in the cold.”

While Ran was turning these matters over in his mind he was not noticing what Mrs. Walling was doing. That good lady sat at a small writing-desk busy with note paper and envelopes. Presently she said:

“Randolph, dear, give me the address of those good friends of yours.”

“Friends, madam!” exclaimed Ran, the more taken by surprise that he had been just thinking of them. It seemed to him that the lady must have read his thoughts.

“Yes, those old friends of yours who came on with Judy and the Moseleys and are boarding somewhere down in the city while waiting for their steamer.”

“Oh! yes, madam! You mean Samson Longman and Andrew Quin? They are with Michael at Markiss’ on Water Street. I do not know the number.”

“That is not necessary. I am sending them invitations to the wedding and the breakfast; for though, of course, such a hasty affair as this is will not admit of much ceremony and elaboration, yet they must be present. There will be the Moseleys, the Stuarts, ourselves and your friends from Markiss’.”

“I should tell you beforehand that those friends of mine come from a mining camp, and though good and true as men can be, they are rough and plain.”

“Well, my dear boy, I have told you who is coming, and so you may know that these friends will meet no one in our house who will be so silly as to look down upon them for being rough and plain. Really, Ran, dear, it ought not to be necessary for me to say this,” concluded the lady.

For all answer, Randolph Hay went to her side, raised her hand and pressed it to his lips with reverential tenderness.

Judy looked up in her face with eyes full of tears and murmured:

“The Lord in heaven bless you, sweet and lovely lady!”

Mrs. Walling smiled deprecatingly at this effusiveness and patted Judy gently on the head. Then she turned to her writing-desk and wrote her informal notes. These were the only invitations the lady had written. The few others to the members of the two families more immediately concerned had been verbal ones.

When she had finished directing the envelopes she handed them over to Ran, saying:

“The letter box is directly on your way home; will you mind dropping them in?”

“I will take charge of them with pleasure,” said Ran, and as the hour was late he arose, said good-night and left the house.

But Ran did not drop the notes in a letter box. He walked over to Sixth Avenue, hailed a car, boarded it and rode down as far as that car would take him, then got out and walked to Markiss’; for he was anxious that his friends should get their bids as soon as possible. He found Mike, Longman, and Dandy all sitting smoking in the grimy back parlor behind Markiss’ bar.

He entered and sat down among them. There happened to be no other guests in the room.

“Well, boys, did you think I had forgotten you?” inquired Ran, really remorseful for not having sought them out before.

“If we did we excused you, under the circumstances,” replied Longman, speaking for the rest.

“I suppose Mike has told you that I am to marry his sister on Saturday morning—that is, the day after to-morrow?”

“Oh, ay! trust Mike for that!” cried old Dandy with a little giggle.

“Well, I have come to-night to bring you invitations to be present at the ceremony in the church and afterward at the breakfast at the house. And, boys, you must be sure to come.”

“And where am I to get the widding garment proper for the occasion? Sure, there’s no time to be cutted and fitted and made dacint to appear in sich grand company, though I thank the lady all the same,” said Andrew Quin.

“Why, Dandy! Don’t you know that you are in New York, where you can be fitted out for a wedding or a funeral or an Arctic expedition in five minutes—more or less?” laughed Ran.

“Yes; it’s more or less, I’ll allow. But I do reckon I can get a ready-made suit of clothes raisonable enough here.”

“Certainly you can! But you must let me see to that, Dandy. I will be down here again to-morrow. And, lest I should forget to tell you, I must do so now. On Saturday morning you must let Mike bring you to the church. He knows where it is.”

“All right, Misther Hay,” said Dandy.

“And, Longman, you have not promised, but you will come, I am sure. My friends uptown wish to make the acquaintance of the Nimrod who saved my life.”

“Oh, Mr. Hay!” laughed the giant deprecatingly. “But I shall be proud to come to your wedding,” he added.

Then Ran bade them good-night and went home.

The next day—Friday—was the last before the wedding and the sailing. There were yet a few articles to be purchased, and so Mrs. Walling got ready to go on her usual morning shopping round. She asked Judy to put on her hat to go with her.

She did not intend to call for Palma on this occasion; a feeling of delicacy withheld her from going into the way of her thanks.

But while the carriage was standing at the door, and while Mrs. Walling was waiting in the parlor for Judy to join her, Mrs. Cleve Stuart was announced and entered the room.

Palma went straight up to Mrs. Walling with outstretched hands and glowing eyes and said:

“How shall I thank you for the rich, beautiful dress—the soft, lovely, caressing dress—that folds me around with the feeling of a friend’s embrace—your embrace?”

For answer the lady drew the speaker to her bosom and kissed her, smiling.

“I want you to know,” continued Palma, “that I feel more comfort in this than I should if I had bought it myself out of boundless riches.”

Again Mrs. Walling kissed her, laughing this time.

“Every time I put it on I shall feel your love around me.”

The elder lady pressed both the younger one’s hands and said:

“We are going out to try to find a suitable sea cloak for Judy. We must find an extra heavy one. It will be terribly cold crossing the ocean at this season. They will be on the banks of Newfoundland in the first days of December. Will you go with us?”

“With pleasure,” said Palma. And as Judy now entered the room, ready dressed for the drive, they arose to go out. But just at that moment Mrs. Duncan was announced and came in.

Both Mrs. Walling and Palma received her as cordially as if she had not interrupted their departure. Mrs. Walling then introduced:

“My young friend, Miss Judith Man.”

“How do you do, my dear? I am glad to see you,” said the visitor.

Judy bowed and smiled.

“You are going out. Don’t let me detain you. I was on my way down to Fourteenth Street to do a little shopping and just dropped in here to tell you a piece of news; but I can take another opportunity,” Mrs. Duncan explained.

“Oh, no! Pray do not! We should die of suspense! Pray, sit right down and open your budget. Our errand can wait as well as yours. It is only shopping. And when you are ready for yours you would oblige us by taking the fourth seat in our carriage, so that we can go together,” Mrs. Walling pleaded.

Mrs. Duncan laid down her muff and shopping bag and seated herself in one of the luxurious armchairs.

Mrs. Walling rang a bell and gave an order:

“Bring coffee into this room.”

And presently the four women had tiny china cups in their hands, sipping hot and fragrant Mocha, three of them listening while the fourth told her news.

“It is about Jennie Montgomery, the true wife of the counterfeit Randolph Hay——” began the speaker.

“Yes! yes!” eagerly exclaimed Mrs. Walling and Palma in a breath, while Judy looked up in eager curiosity.

“You know, without any one’s planning—unless fate be some one—that Jennie and her child were passengers on the same steamship, and even in the same cabin, with her fraudulent husband and his false bride?”

“Yes! yes!”

“I said when I discovered that complication that those elements were as explosive as dynamite. Neither could have expected the presence of the other on the steamer, and so I was really anxious to hear what happened when Miss Leegh and her ‘bridegroom’ met his lawful wife and child on the ship, on the ocean, whence neither could escape without jumping into the sea.”

“Well, have you heard?” impatiently demanded Mrs. Walling.

“Yes; I have just received a long letter from Jennie, dated November 15th. She had been at home four weeks before she found time to write to me.”

“And——” breathlessly exclaimed Mrs. Walling.

“She met her husband on the deck of the steamer. She was as much astonished as he was confounded. But I had better read her letter to you.”

And the visitor drew a thickly packed envelope, with a foreign stamp, from her pocket, and read the pages describing Jennie’s voyage, her meeting with her husband and Miss Leegh on the _Scorpio_, and her arrival at home in her father’s new vicarage, as these events are already known to our readers.

“To think of Jennie’s self-control and forbearance!” concluded Mrs. Duncan.

“And to think of Lamia Leegh’s insolence in trying to patronize her, the real wife of her own ‘brevet’ bridegroom!” exclaimed Mrs. Walling.

“And to think of the man’s assurance in carrying off matters with such a high hand!” remarked Palma.

“Och, sure, and himself had always the impidince av the divil, had Gintleman Geff!” exclaimed Judy, surprised into her dialect; then, suddenly aware of her “backsliding,” she clapped her hand to her mouth a minute too late and looked frightened; but as she saw that neither of her friends were in the least disturbed she felt relieved, while the visitor evidently thought that the brogue had been humorously assumed for the occasion, for she replied in kind:

“Ay, has he—the thaif av the worruld!” Then, turning to Mrs. Walling, she continued: “What an active fate there seems to be at work here! Did you see the significance of the latter part of Jennie’s letter?”

“Yes, of course; her father has left Medge, in the south of England, and is in temporary charge of Haymore vicarage, in the north of England,” replied Mrs. Walling.

“And our Gentleman Geff of the many wives and aliases, in trying to escape his one real wife and avoid her father by getting off the steamer at Queenstown will unwittingly rush into their power again the moment he sets foot within his stolen estate at Haymore. Now, if his lawful wife had been anybody else there might be a chance for a show of fight. But the daughter of the Vicar of Haymore!”

“Ah!” exclaimed Mrs. Walling, drawing her breath hard.

“Jennie writes of the great preparations they are making at Haymore to receive the usurping squire, who is now expected to arrive with a large party of invited friends for the Christmas holidays, little knowing that he will there meet his lawful wife and her avenging, priestly father.”

“And confront the lawful heir of Haymore with the more terrible family solicitors,” laughed Mrs. Walling.

“Then Mr. Randolph Hay is really going over at once to take possession of his estates?” inquired the visitor.

“Yes; he sails on Saturday; but not alone—he takes his wife with him. He will be married on Saturday morning and embark in the afternoon.”

“Ah, indeed! That is news. I had heard no rumor of his being engaged, or even attentive to any of our girls. Who is she?”

“My young friend here,” replied Mrs. Walling, pointing to Judy.

Mrs. Duncan jumped up and kissed the girl with effusions and congratulations.

Judy blushed and smiled and bowed, but did not venture to speak again.

“The wedding is to be quiet. We don’t want a second edition of the ‘princely nuptials’ of ‘Mr. Randolph Hay’ and Miss Lamia Leegh. They, we think, have done enough in that way ‘for the honor of the family.’ Our wedding must be very plain. There are ‘no cards.’ I will not say there will also be ‘no cake, no nothing.’ So, as you are interested, if you will drop in, ‘promiscuously,’ at the ‘Little Church Around the Corner’ about ten o’clock to-morrow morning, you will witness one of the happiest, though not one of the grandest, weddings on record.”

“I shall do myself that pleasure without a doubt,” replied Mrs. Duncan.

And then she arose and took up her muff and hand-bag to intimate that she was ready to go.

And the four ladies entered the close carriage that was waiting at the door and went on their shopping expedition.

It was perfectly successful, even to the sea cloak, a heavy cloth one, reaching from head to heel, having long sleeves and hood, and lined throughout with fur.

They took Mrs. Duncan to her door.

“There is one thing I would rather see than the wedding,” said Mrs. Duncan.

“And what is that?” inquired Augusta Walling.

“The circus at Haymore Court when Mr. Randolph Hay and his wife arrive there and meet Gentleman Geff and Miss Lamia Leegh.”