I have seen to that," the bridegroom said, proud of his man-of-the-world
ways.
Deleah climbed into the carriage with her sister. "You wish you were
coming with us?" Mr. Boult inquired facetiously.
"Not at all!"
"Your turn will come. How about Mr. Gibbon? Now that Bessie is out of the
way you can have your chance."
"Good-bye, Bessie. I do so hope you may be happy."
"You're a lucky young lady, tha's what you are!" Emily said, putting her
head into the carriage. "You couldn't marry all of 'em what was in love
with you, Bessie; but you've made a wise ch'ice--"
The guard cut her eloquence short by slamming the door. Mr. Boult,
oblivious of the fact that Bessie might also have liked to show herself,
filled up the window. Emily, determined that no item of the ritual proper
to such ceremonies should be omitted, promptly threw a handful of rice in
his face. It stung, half blinded him, but had the effect of driving him
from his position, so that Bessie for one minute could appear. The poor
face in the white tulle and forget-me-nots looked anxious, frightened,
appealing; and as the train, rushing on, carried it from them the women
left on the platform looked at each other through eyes blinded with tears.
Pages:
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375