CHAPTER XXXI
The Wedding
The day was as gloriously fine as the most exacting of brides couldhave wished for, and by noon the company were beginning to assemble.
Some of the fishing boats were away, which was disappointing forthe crews, although it is a little difficult to imagine how oneextra person could have been squeezed into the congregation whichlater on crowded the store.
Jervis came over the river very early in the morning, and, with thehelp of Miles and Phil, got the store ready to serve as a churchfor the occasion. Pails of lard with boards laid across served forseats in the centre of the floor; barrels of pork, of beans, and offlour made a sort of dais or high seat all round the walls, onwhich the boys and the younger men might be accommodated. Rather aprecarious kind of seat this was, as barrel heads were apt to giveway, and then the luckless individual would be smothered with flouror bespattered with brine.
Mary also came across early, to help to dress the bride, and hermood was so wildly hilarious that Mrs. Burton felt it necessary togently reprove her.
"Of course it is right to be happy and cheerful at a wedding, butthere is always a strain of sadness somewhere to keep our spiritseven. And we can't forget that Katherine is to go to England nextweek."
"But she will be glad to go, and glad to come back; no one wants tostay in one place all her life, in these gadabout days," Maryanswered. Then she produced a box and bade Katherine admire whatshe had brought her.
"I felt when I bought it that it was shockingly unsuitable," Marysaid, laughing, as from the folds of soft white paper she liftedout a square of exquisite lace for a bridal veil, and flung it overKatherine's hair. "But plainly I have the eye of a seer, and Iimagined you standing up to be married in a sailor hat, orsomething equally unsuitable, and it was not to be endured."
"How lovely!" sighed Mrs. Burton, in an ecstasy of admiration. ButKatherine said nothing at all; her heart was too full for speech,and she was thinking of last summer, when it had seemed right thatshe should stand aside to let Mary have the happiness she wantedfor herself. Things had changed so much since then that it seemedscarcely possible that she could have had to bear so manyheartaches.
At this moment one of the twins burst into the room with theinformation that the bishop had arrived, and Katherine, walkinglike one in a dream, went out from her chamber and crossed thehomely kitchen to the store.
A murmur went round the crowded place as she entered. Heretoforeshe had been to them a good, hard-working girl, with pleasantmanners and a pretty face. They had seen her staggering along theportage paths laden with heavy burdens; they had seen herstruggling to row a boat up river against a strong current; theyhad met her dripping with wet, or covered with frost, like anEsquimaux: but this stately girl with the beautiful face, clad inher white bridal robe, and with Mary's veil over her shining hair,was a revelation to them, and it was Oily Dave who voiced theopinion of the assembly when he exclaimed in a very audible tone:"My word, but ain't she a stunner!"
He was sitting in the very front row, as if he were the mostintimate and faithful friend the family possessed. He held histreasured "top" hat carefully in front of him, as if it were acollecting bag, and he were about to take the offertory. For therest, his costume was something of a mixture: a football sweaterwith broad stripes, a Norfolk jacket, dungaree trousers, and afisherman's long boots made him a striking figure even in thatcompany of mixed costumes. He was as self-satisfied and complacentas if he had never planned evil deeds and tried to carry them out,while the benevolence with which he smiled upon the wedding partymight have led one to suppose they had no more tried or trustedfriend than he.
Katherine was conscious of the critical, appraising glances of thetrim little gentleman who stood by the side of Jervis, and theymade her vaguely uncomfortable, coming between her and the mellowutterances of the bishop in his opening address. But she forgotMr. Clay and his searching looks after a time, and was sensibleonly of the love which wrapped her round when Miles, at a sign fromthe bishop, took Katherine's hand, and, placing it in that of hisfather, whispered to him to give it to Jervis.
'Duke Radford, standing erect, his fine figure head and shoulderstaller than those around him, except the bridegroom, smiled roundon the assembly, stood holding Katherine's ungloved hand, softlystroking and patting it, until Jervis reached forward to take it,when he relinquished it with a smile and a nod, quite satisfied tohave it so.
The register was signed in the kitchen, and it was there that therevelation took place which came as a thunderclap of surprise toeveryone concerned, except Jervis and Mr. Clay, the latter of whom,when the bishop's part of the ceremony was done, took the remainderupon himself, and proceeded to make his explanations in a voicewhich Mary declared made her think of musty parchments and red tape.
He addressed himself to Katherine, bowing so profoundly that it waswonderful he was able to return to a perpendicular position withoutcatching hold of something with which to pull himself up. "I haveto congratulate you on becoming the Countess of Compton, and I amquite certain the title was never worn by one more worthy to adornit."
Katherine shrank a step nearer to her husband, and there was a lookof positive fear in her eyes, for privately she thought Mr. Claymust be mad. "I do not understand you," she said gently, and thesilence in the kitchen was so profound, as they waited for Mr.Clay's reply, that the buzz of talk which had broken out in thecrowded store seemed tremendously loud by contrast.
Mr. Clay cleared his throat with a dry little cough, intended toemphasize the importance of the remarks which he had to make, thenhe said: "Lord Compton insisted last night that no word should bespoken concerning his accession to the title until after theceremony of to-day; but now it must be known, and I have to informyou that your husband has been seventh Earl of Compton since the18th of February last, only it seems he did not know of hiscousin's death until yesterday, when I arrived with papers for himto sign."
Katherine became very pale, and turned with a quick movement toJervis, who stood looking down upon her with a smile. "Even now Ido not understand; please tell me," she said, with a bewilderedexpression.
"My cousin Samuel was the sixth earl," said Jervis, taking hiswife's hand and talking to her in the same quietly confidentialtone that he might have used had they two been alone, instead ofthe centre figures of a crowded room. "My father was the son ofthe younger son, with three lives between him and the title. As Ihave told you, Samuel, old Lord Compton, was very cruel to mymother in her widowhood, and I hotly determined never to haveanything to do with him. Then his son and his grandson died withina few weeks of each other, and Mr. Clay, who is the family lawyer,wrote to me telling me that I was the next heir, and Cousin Samuelwanted me to go home and take up the duties of my new position.That letter came last summer, but I would not go, and I would notaccept an allowance for myself; but I asked for one for my mother,and education for my brothers. I have not deceived you, mydearest. I have only withheld from you facts which did not matteruntil now."
Katherine flushed and then grew pale; she knew that all eyes wereupon her, but there was one thing she must know, and her voice hadan anxious ring as she asked: "Did you--did you know this, I meanthat you were the next heir, when you asked me to marry you?"
"Yes, I knew," he answered cheerfully, and now his voice had gotback its old confident ring, for the shadow of constraint whichKatherine had noticed in him last night had been owing to thisknowledge which he was holding back, and which had troubled himmore than he cared to confess. "But even then there was no greatcertainty of my succeeding. Cousin Samuel might have marriedagain, and left another son to come after him. I was just aworking man, and I looked to support my wife by the labour of myhands. You must forgive me that I did not tell you I was going tomake a great lady of you, because, you see, I did not know untilyesterday, though the scrap of paper you discovered at Ochre Lakewarned me that the title might not be far off; so I was not greatlysurprised when Mr. Clay introdu
ced himself to me yesterday."
"Mr. Clay is evidently a lawyer by nature as well as by profession,since he was able to keep a secret of such magnitude through somany miles of travel," interposed the bishop, anxious to break thestrain for Katherine, whose colour was still coming and going, andwhose eyes had the frightened look of a trapped wild creature.
"I was sure there must be some story of greatness behind, when itbecame necessary for a family lawyer to take such a journey asthis," Mary Selincourt said, with an easy laugh, doing her best tosecond the bishop's efforts to draw off attention from Katherinefor a time. "And now, don't you think we might as well startfeeding the multitude, Nellie? or they will not be in a properframe of mind to appreciate the bishop's sermon presently."
The diversion was effectual; everyone poured outside to wheretables were spread under the trees by the river. Tea, coffee,cakes, and lemonade became the concern of the moment. And in thekitchen the two who had been made husband and wife were left alone.
"Am I forgiven, your ladyship?" Jervis asked; but there was a noteof anxiety in his bantering tone, for Katherine's head was averted,and held at an angle which made him apprehensive.
"Jervis, why did you not tell me while there was time to draw back?For I--I am not fit to be a great lady!" she burst out passionately.
"I did not tell you because I was so horribly afraid you would wantto draw back," he admitted candidly, "and I wanted you so badlythat I could not afford to take the risk. You are quite as fit tobe a great lady as I am to be a great gentleman; that goes withoutsaying."
"But think of the work I have had to do?" she faltered, shrinkingand shivering at the prospect before her.
"Work is no degradation," he answered hastily, "or my days in theNantucket whaler might easily rise up in judgment against me; for Iam certain there can be no more filthy or disgusting work on theface of the earth than I did then. Perhaps it is better for usthat we have had to toil so hard; we shall be better able tosympathize with other workers, and to help them."
"I shall not know how to manage a houseful of servants," she said,with such a comical air of distress that he had to laugh again.
"You need not have more servants than you like, and if you can'tmanage them, why, we must pay someone to manage them for us," hesaid gaily. Then his voice grew graver as he asked: "When are yougoing to tell me that I am forgiven, Katherine?"
Something in the look on his face reminded her of the day when shehad risked her life to save him from the flood, and the memorybroke down the rampart of offended pride which had sprung up in herheart when Mr. Clay made his astounding revelation.
"I don't suppose it really matters what our position is as long aswe love each other," she said unsteadily. "And so--and so you areforgiven; but don't do it again."
"My dear, there are no more titles in our family that I know of,"he answered, as he lifted her veil to kiss her; "so there is notthe remotest chance that you will ever have higher rank than acountess's."
"I don't want to have higher rank than a countess's," she answeredsoberly. "But I mean, don't keep things back in future, Jervis, orI shall always be in fear. I want to know the bad as well as thegood!"
"Do you call it bad to find yourself a countess?" he asked, with anair of mock horror.
"I find it difficult to get used to the idea," she said, with arather watery smile; for the greatness thrust upon her was by nomeans to her mind.
Later on, when she came out with her husband to drink a cup ofcoffee with the group under the trees, although she was the sameKatherine, quick to smile, and with a pleasant word for everyone,there was already a difference, and she carried herself with anadded stateliness which caused Mrs. Jenkin to remark with asentimental air that greatness had eaten into her soul.
But it was Oily Dave who took the chief credit for the wholebusiness, and, having succeeded in cornering the bishop and Mr.Clay, he proceeded to inform them of the manner in which he hadhelped the match along. "If it hadn't been for me there wouldn'thave been no interesting occasion such as this here to-day," hesaid, standing before them, the fishing boots planted wide apart,the "top" hat carefully held in his left hand: for of course hecould not have his head covered in presence of a bishop; moreover,the hat, being too big for him, had a trick of coming down over hisface like an extinguisher.
"Pray, what was it that you did to help the business forward?"asked the bishop, with a twinkle in his eye, whilst Mr. Clay'sstiff black hair nearly curled with horror at the thought of alow-class person like Oily Dave having anything to do with makingthe marriage of his client, the Earl of Compton.
"I gave the girl, I mean her ladyship, the chance to save the youngman's life, and that, I take it, was the starting-point of thewhole affair."
"Without doubt it helped the process," replied the bishop with alaugh; and then Mr. Selincourt intervened by saying it was time forthe bishop's service to begin, so Oily Dave was promptly hustled tohis proper place in the background.
The bishop was more than ordinarily eloquent that evening; but thebride, in her white robe, sitting beside her husband, heard onlythe words of the text: "He shall choose our inheritance for us".
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