"I think, then, she will be too fine for this family. But Robert, I can not, and I will not, change my ways at my time of life. I may be plain and common – perhaps – I may be vulgar in Theodora's eyes, but – "
"My dear mother, you are all a woman and a mother should be. You represent the finest ladies of your generation. Theodora is the fruit and flower of a later one, different, but no better than your own. You are everything I want. I would not have you changed in any respect." He looked into her face with eyes full of love, and gently pressed her arm against his side.
Such appreciative words as these were most unusual, and Mrs. Campbell felt them thrill her heart with pleasure. She even half-resolved to try to like Robert's wife, and spoke enthusiastically about the taste her son had displayed. In the morning she was still more delighted, for then she discovered that her own drawing-room had been redecorated, a new light carpet laid, and many beautiful pieces of furniture added to brighten its usual gloom. Nor had Isabel's and Christina's rooms been forgotten; in many ways they had been beautified, and only the family dining-room had been left in the gloom of its dark, though handsome furniture. But Robert hoped by the following summer his mother would be willing to have it totally changed, for he remembered hearing Theodora say that the room in which people eat ought to be, above all other rooms in the house, bright, and light, and cheerful. Indeed, she thought it a matter of well-being to eat under the happiest circumstances possible.
In the height of the women's delight and gratitude, Robert set off on his wedding journey. His joy infected the whole house. Even the cross McNab and the mournful Jepson were heard laughing, and Christina spoke of this as among the wonderfuls of her existence. Perhaps the one most pleased was Mrs. Campbell. She had been surrounded by the same depressing furniture and upholstery for thirty-seven years, and she had almost a childish pleasure in the new white lace curtains which had been hung in her rooms. They gave her a sense of youth, of something unusually happy and hopeful. Many times in a day, she went, unknown to any one, into the drawing-room and took the fine lace drapery in her fingers, to examine and admire its beauty. The girls also were more cheerful. Indeed, the tone of the house had been uplifted and changed, and all through the influence of more light, some graceful modern furniture, and a little – alas, that it was so little! – good will and gratitude.
On the fifth of October Robert Campbell was married, and about a week afterwards, Archie St. Claire called one evening upon his family.
"I have just returned from Kendal," he said, "and I thought you would like to hear about the wedding. You were none of you there."
"We had satisfactory reasons for not going," answered Mrs. Campbell.
"I was Robert's best man."
"I supposed so. Robert said very little about his arrangements. What do you think of the bride?"
"She is a most beautiful woman, fine-natured and sweet-tempered, and loved by all who come near her. Robert has found a jewel."
"How was she dressed?" asked Isabel.
"Perfectly. White satin and lace, of course, but what I liked was the simplicity of the gown. I heard some one call it a Princess shape. It fit her beautiful form without a crease, and fell in long soft folds to her white shoes."
"White shoes? Nonsense!" ejaculated Mrs. Campbell.
"White shoes with diamond buckles."
"Paste buckles more likely."
"They looked like diamonds. Her veil fell backward and touched the bottom of her dress."
"Backward! Then of what use was it? I thought brides wore a veil to cover their faces."
"It would have been a sin and a shame to have covered her face. She looked like an angel. She wore no jewels, and she carried instead of flowers a small Bible bound in purple velvet and gold."
"Were there many present?"
"The streets were crowded, and the church was crowded. The Blue Coat Boys – a large old school in Kendal – scattered flowers before her as she walked from the church gates to the altar; and the old rector who had married her father and mother was quite affected by the ceremony. He kissed and blessed her at the altar-rail, after it was over."
"Kissed Robert Campbell's bride. Surely you are joking, Mr. St. Claire."
"No, it is a common thing in English churches after the bridal ceremony if the minister is a friend. It was a solemn and affecting sight."
"Then her father did not marry her?"
"He gave her away. He could not have performed the ceremony in the parish church."
"Do you mean that she was not married in her father's church?"
"She was married in the parish church, one of the most beautiful places of worship I was ever in – a grand old edifice."
"Do you mean that my son was married in an Episcopal church, at the very horns of an Episcopal altar?" asked Mrs. Campbell indignantly.
"It was the most beautiful marriage service I ever saw. And the sweet old bells chimed so joyously, I can never forget them."
"Was there a wedding breakfast?" asked Isabel.
"About twenty guests sat down to a very prettily decorated breakfast table, and after the meal, Robert and his bride began their journey through life together. I have brought you some bride cake," and he took from a box in his hand three smaller white boxes, tied with white ribbon, and presented them. Mrs. Campbell laid hers unopened on the table without a word of thanks or courtesy, and Isabel and Christina followed her example.
"There was a crowd at the railway station," continued Mr. St. Claire, "and the Blue Coat Boys met the bride singing a wedding-hymn. Robert gave them a noble check for their school."
"I'll warrant he did. The more fool he!"
"And the last thing they heard as they left Kendal must have been the church bells chiming joyfully – 'Hail, Happy Morn'!"
"Do you know where they went? Robert was not sure when he left Scotland."
"I think I do, Mrs. Campbell. They had intended going through the Fife towns, and by old St. Andrews to Wick, and so to the Orkneys and Shetlands. But it was late in the season for this trip, so they went to Paris and the Mediterranean. I think they were right."
"Paris, of course. All the fools go there!"
"Well, Mrs. Campbell, Scotland is a bleak place for a honeymoon."
"Mr. St. Claire, if it does for a man's home, it may do to honeymoon in. That is my opinion."
"I don't agree with you, Mrs. Campbell. A honeymoon is a sort of transcendental existence, and a man naturally wants to spend it as nearly in Paradise as possible. There's no place like the Mediterranean for sunshine, and it is poetical and picturesque, and just the place for lovers."
Failing, with all his willing good nature, to rouse any apparent interest in a subject he considered highly interesting, he felt a little offended, and rose to depart. But ere he reached the parlor door he turned and said: "I had nearly forgotten one very remarkable thing about the bride."
"Let us hear it, by all means," said Mrs. Campbell.
"I stayed a few days after the marriage, in order to visit Windermere and Keswick Lake with Mr. Newton – by-the-by, wonderfully beautiful spots, nothing like them in Scotland – and one day while waiting in his study, I picked up a book. Imagine my astonishment, when I saw it had been written by the bride."
At this information Mrs. Campbell threw up her hands with a laugh that terminated in something like a shriek. Isabel laid her hand on her mother's arm, and asked: "Are you ill, mother?"
"No," she answered promptly. "I am only like Mr. St. Claire, astonished. I need not have been. Every girl scribbles a little now. Poetry, of course."
"You mean Mrs. Campbell's book?"
"Yes."
"On the contrary, it was a most learned and interesting study of ancient and sacred