I saw his bronzed and
weather-beaten face flush when he caught sight of her in all her
gracious beauty; but it was when she reached his side and laid her
hand on his arm, as he told me afterward, that the choke came. She
was so like her mother.
The two swept past me into the old-fashioned parlor, now a bower
of roses, where Jack and Peter and Felicia, with the elect, waited
their coming, and I followed, halting at the doorway. From this
point of vantage I peered in as best I could over and between the
heads of the more fortunate, but I heard all that went on; the
precise, sonorous voice of the bishop--(catch Miss Felicia having
anybody but a bishop); the clear responses--especially Jack's--as
if he had been waiting all his life to say those very words and
insisted on being heard; the soft crush of satin as Ruth knelt;
the rustle of her gown when she regained her feet; the measured
words: "Whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder"--
and then the outbreak of joyous congratulations. As I looked in
upon them all--old fellow as I am--listening to their joyous
laughter; noting the wonderful toilettes, the festoons and masses
of flowers; watching Miss Felicia as she moved about the room (and
never had I seen her more the "Grande Dame" than she was that
day), welcoming her guests with a graciousness that must have
opened some of their eyes--even fat, red-faced Arthur Breen,
perspiring in pearl-colored gloves and a morning frock coat that
fitted all sides of him except the front, and Mrs.
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