Suzanna Stirs the Fire Part 32

So Robert helped her gently from the wheel chair. He lifted small Daphne upon the vacated seat and tucked her in carefully. And then they all entered the church.

The minister came down from the altar. He had lit two candles and they sent their wavering light out upon the small audience. The Man above the altar looked down with infinite tenderness upon the pale little bride.

The minister spoke: "Robert, take your bride upon your arm!"

Thus adjured, Robert proffered his arm and Miss Ma.s.sey put her small hand upon it. Then slowly they walked behind the minister to the altar.

Suzanna, Maizie, and Peter followed.

Graham offered his support to his grandmother. He had pledged his fealty to her and he felt grateful that she leaned upon him as slowly she mounted the four steps which led to the altar.

There they grouped themselves about the bridal pair. Graham stood close to his grandmother, Suzanna near to Miss Ma.s.sey, Peter and Maizie at Robert's right hand.

The minister began: "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together--"

and on through the beautiful old ceremony.

He came at length to this question: "Who giveth this woman to this man?"

and paused simply in custom. And old John Ma.s.sey was far distant, nursing his anger and yet sad, too, because he would not in his temper attend the marriage of his daughter, though most lovingly and pleadingly had that daughter begged his presence. And the girl's mother was lying out on a hillside--where she had lain for many a long year.

And the waiting bride had tears in her heart, till, suddenly, Drusilla, with a beautiful light in her eyes, stepped forward. She put her white-veined old hand softly on the bride's arm, and she said in a low clear voice:

"I do--I give this woman to this man."

And the mother spirit in her spoke so richly that the bride all at once felt happy and a little awed, too, as though her own mother had for the moment raised herself and spoken.

And the minister went on with the ceremony till came the end: "And I p.r.o.nounce that they are Man and Wife."

And Robert folded his wife in his arms and kissed her while each face, young and old, pictured the deep solemnity of the moment.

Robert's wife at last turned to Drusilla. She put her arms about the bravely upstanding figure in its old-fas.h.i.+oned dolman. "Oh, thank you, thank you," she murmured. "I shall never forget what you've done for me today."

The color flowed like a wave up over Drusilla's face. With a quick little breath, she leaned forward and kissed the new wife. She experienced a sudden glow. It was as though Life for the moment, forgetful that she was old and laid aside, had called her forward to fill a need no other was near to fill.

They all left the church after Robert had signed his name in a big book, and his wife had written hers with a proud little flourish. Robert helped Drusilla into the wheel chair, after lifting Daphne from her place on the upholstered cus.h.i.+on. This time the little girl awoke. She was about to cry when Robert raised her in his arms and carried her down the road, hus.h.i.+ng her against him, while Graham again ordered himself his grandmother's squire.

And so they went down the road together, all somewhat quiet, even Peter's exuberant spirits moderated, till they reached Drusilla's home.

The maid, Letty, awaiting her mistress' return, ran down the steps, an anxious frown between her eyes.

"Come," said Drusilla. "You must all be my guests." She whispered some words in Letty's ear. The girl smiled and half shyly glanced at Robert and his bride.

Robert still carrying little Daphne, who had refused to be put down, said at once: "We should like that very much. I was so hoping you would ask us."

So they entered the little house. They went into the parlor with its portrait above the mantel and the lilies of the valley beneath it.

Graham remembered with a little warm feeling that his father had once left the order at a city florist's for a daily spray of those lovely bells.

Letty, carrying the dolman and small bonnet, disappeared but in a miraculously short time returned to announce that tea was ready in the dining-room.

Drusilla flushed and happy led the way. Robert and his wife followed, and the children came last. The hostess, from her place at the head of the table, designated each one's chair, and when all were seated she bowed her head and offered up a little prayer.

And then Letty brought in hot m.u.f.fins and marmalade, sweet b.u.t.ter and fragrant tea. And amidst much laughter and merry words the feast began:

And at the end Drusilla rose, and asking silence, said:

"Robert, today in the name of the bride's mother, I gave her into your keeping. I can see a promise in your eyes that she will never, never regret going to you. Love her always."

And Robert, standing, in a deep voice answered: "Drusilla," borrowing quite unconsciously Suzanna's way of name, "Drusilla, I have taken upon myself this day the great responsibility of a woman's happiness--" he paused and bent a look of ineffable tenderness upon his wife--"and please G.o.d I shall keep that responsibility while life lasts."

And they all pushed back their chairs, the children with a little sc.r.a.ping noise. And Robert looking at his watch thought it was time to leave, since the train would not wait for laggards.

Then all in a moment it seemed he was going down the path again, his wife upon his arm. And Graham, who had disappeared kitchenward, returned and flung a handful of rice after them. At which the bride turned and laughed and waved her hand.

"It was a real wedding, wasn't it, Drusilla?" said Suzanna, "even to the rice."

"A real wedding, my little girl," said Drusilla.

Graham spoke: "Grandmother, aren't you glad I wheeled you out today?"

She answered at once. "So very glad, Graham. And I feel happier tonight than for many a long day."

"And may I do so again soon?" he asked. "And next summer I'll take you out every day."

A little smile touched her lips. "Next summer--next summer--? Ah, laddie, come often this winter, if you can."

And then the children started away. And at the last moment Drusilla drew Suzanna to her. "Little girl," she said lovingly, "I'm so glad you came once to visit me--that summer day."

"Oh, so am I, Drusilla," Suzanna cried. She looked wistfully into her friend's face. "Some day I want to do something wonderful for you."

Drusilla, bending low, kissed the upturned face with its big seeking eyes. But she did not speak. For why make definite by clumsy words the miracles a little child brings to pa.s.s. No, thought Drusilla in her wisdom, Suzanna should go her way beautifully unconscious of her good works.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE EAGLE MAN VISITS THE ATTIC

A few Sat.u.r.days after the marriage in the little wayside church, Richard Procter reached home in a state of great excitement.

The family was in the dining-room. Mrs. Procter was polis.h.i.+ng the drinking gla.s.ses. Though it was long past noon, Suzanna had just commenced to clear away the luncheon dishes. Maizie was shaking napkins, while Peter was in a corner pretending to play ball with the baby, very much to the baby's amus.e.m.e.nt.

Mr. Procter told his news triumphantly.

"At last," he cried. "Jane, John Ma.s.sey is absolutely coming to see the machine this afternoon."

The color flashed up into Mrs. Procter's face.

"Oh, Richard," she cried; "perhaps--" but she did not finish her conjecture.