CHAPTER XXV
GREAT MUSIC
"Wull ye be comin' soon, Miss Warne?" said the voice of Mrs. MacFaydenat her door. Georgiana opened it quickly, and the housekeeper entered,quietly resplendent in black silk with fine lace collar and cuffs, herhair in shining order, an expression of great solemnity on her face.
"Mr. and Mrs. Peter Brandt are here," she announced with impressiveness."Doctor Craig is doonstairs with them; he cam' ten minutes ago. He bademe say he wad coom for ye himself when ye were ready. It's a gled dayfor him, Miss Warne, an' for us a'."
Georgiana advanced, her heart very warm toward this good woman, who, asshe well knew, was quite as much the friend of Jefferson Craig as hishousekeeper, and well esteemed, even beloved by him. The girl cameclose.
"Mrs. MacFayden," she said, very low, "I have--no mother to kiss mebefore I go down. May I----"
The sentence was left unfinished, for with one step forward MaryMacFayden opened wide her arms, and for a long minute the two enfoldedeach other, while both hearts beat strongly.
Then Georgiana, suddenly mindful that she must not let go for an instantof her self-control, pressed a kiss upon the fair, smooth cheek of theScotswoman, received one equally warm upon her own, and drew awaysmiling. "Thank you," she murmured uncertainly. "I couldn't go withoutit."
"Thet ye could na', lassie," responded Mrs. MacFayden heartily."Noo--wull I send the doctor up?"
"Just in a minute--when I have seen my father----"
Georgiana ran into his room from her own. A deep embrace, a lingeringkiss--while James Stuart looked out of the window, a lump suddenlyappearing from nowhere in his sturdy throat.
Then Georgiana said softly at the young man's elbow: "Thank you againfor coming, Jimps. It's such a comfort to have my brother here."
Before he could reply she was gone again.
He led Mr. Warne downstairs, where Doctor Craig presented them both tothe Brandts--delightful people Stuart thought them, too--so simple andunaffected--almost like village people.
As he stood waiting with them, in the same dignified big room which hehad been in before he went upstairs, he was conscious that in his briefabsence its character had changed. Library though it still was, with itsmassive bookcases filled with rows upon rows of finely bound books, ithad taken on a festal air. Great bowls of roses, deep crimson, glowingpink, rich amber, had been brought in; they stood on table,chimney-piece, and floor; hundreds of them it seemed to him there mustbe. He realized that Georgiana herself could not have seen them; theywould be a surprise to her. Evidently the simple little wedding was tohave a character all its own.
With the quiet departure of Jefferson Craig from the room James Stuartwas all eyes for an appearance at the door. How would Georgiana come toher marriage? In shimmering white, he supposed, for that was thetraditional garb of all the brides he had ever seen--mostly villagegirls they were. Once, while at college, he had attended a city wedding,that of a classmate who had not been willing to wait till his collegecourse was finished. Stuart remembered how pale the bride had been; she,had looked as if she were going to faint. He hoped Georgiana would notlook like that: he could not conceive it.
The next moment he saw her, entering the wide door, on Doctor Craig'sarm--the same Georgiana he had always known, as simply dressed, evenmore simply, he thought, though he had little time for looking at herdress, so held was his gaze by her face. Never could he have conceivedso radiant a bride. And then he thought--Jefferson Craig had gone upalone to bring her down. Stuart wondered if he himself could makeJeannette look like that, at such a moment. He thought he could!
Georgiana looked into Father Davy's eyes as she stood before him. He wasnot tall; his face was almost on a level with her own. It seemed to hershe had never seen eyes so clear, so blue, so comprehending. Her ownnever left them for a moment while the service lasted, until the closingprayer.
Father Davy's voice, at first very slightly tremulous, gathered force ashe went on with the words he had spoken so many times, but never as hewas speaking them now--to his child, to Phoebe's child, and to the manof her choice. A little flush crept into his thin cheeks. More than oncehis eyes rested on the dark-blue silk which covered his daughter'sshoulders; the sight of it seemed to give him strength.
When the service ended, and his voice sank into the words of prayer, thehand of Mr. Peter Brandt went for a moment to his eyes; Mrs. MacFaydenfelt suddenly for her handkerchief; James Stuart softly cleared histhroat, winking once or twice rather rapidly. Never had any of themheard just such a prayer as that. It was as if he who made it were verynear the invisible Presence whom he so tenderly and trustinglyaddressed.
Stuart never forgot the moment when he looked for the first time intothe eyes of Jefferson Craig's newly made wife. For one instant hesuffered a pang of jealousy--a queer, irrational feeling. It was as ifhe had lost his friend, as if this star-eyed creature before him couldnever find room for him again in her full heart. But he knew better inthe next breath, for she lifted her face, ever so little, and with asense of deep relief he gave her the brotherly kiss she thus permitted.When he looked at Jefferson Craig he found that the keen, fine eyes wereregarding him with a very friendly intentness, and he wrung the handoffered him as he would have wrung the hand of a brother.
"You're the luckiest man in this whole big town," declared Stuart. Hislips had been dumb before Georgiana, but now he turned to her again."George, there's no use trying to tell you how I feel about this. All Ican say is that nothing's too good for you--or for him. That's prettylame, but--whatever eloquence I'm capable of is tied up somewhere; Ican't get it out."
"It's out, Jimps, dear," she assured him. "Isn't it--Jefferson?"
"It certainly is--Jimps," Craig answered heartily. "It was for just thatgenuine feeling that I sent for you. I knew we couldn't spare it."
Stuart watched the pair eagerly during the next hour--the hour duringwhich the little party sat at the wedding breakfast which followed. Thetable was a round one, and his place was next the bride, so he missednothing. He had never been present on such an occasion, nor could haveguessed the beauty and charm of the setting wealth and art can give. Itwas perfection itself, arranged by whose hand he had no notion, but heunderstood well enough by whose order had been created all the simpleelegance which so well suited the house and the people. And as he lookedat Georgiana he said to himself:
"She fits into this as if she had been born to it. She _was_ born to it,for it's just the kind of thing she'd have made for herself if she'd hadthe means. No show, no fuss, just niceness! And it's the sort of thingmy wife shall have, somehow, even in the country, before long. We'll_bring_ this there; she'll know how. There's no patent on it. Blessher--how George deserves this! If only Jean could have been here. ButI'll tell her; I'll get it over to her. And she'll understand!"
At the end of the hour the car was at the door, and Georgiana was comingdown the stairs in her traveling clothes, her bridal bouquet on her arm.How those splendid roses had lighted up the little dark-blue frock!
"I've no bridesmaid to throw it to," she said, extending it towardStuart. "Will you take it to Jeannette?"
"I should say I will. I'll be with her this evening; she made mepromise." And Stuart received the offering with a glad hand.
A long, silent clinging to her father was the only parting embrace forthis girl. If James Stuart longed for one of his own, after these yearsof friendship, he was obliged to be content with the lustrous look hehad from eyes lifted for a moment to his as Georgiana took her place inthe car, and with the lingering pressure her hand gave his, which spokeof love and loyalty.
Then she was gone, with Jefferson Craig sending back at Stuart a specialbrilliant smile of gratitude for the office he had performed, that oftaking the place of the whole group of young people usually present onsuch occasions, saying good-bye with bared head and face of ardentdevotion, with the first light snowflakes of winter falling on his fairhair.
"I can't believe I'm quite awake," said Georgiana
, by and by. She sat inone of the drawing-rooms of a fast train, the door closed, the curtainsdrawn between herself and the rest of the carful of passengers, and onlythe flying landscape beyond the window to tell of the world outside.
Craig sat watching her; he seemed able to do nothing else. In his facewas the most joyous content; there seemed almost a light behind it."Not awake?" was his amused comment. "I wonder why. Now I feeltremendously awake--after a long, uneasy sleep, in which I dreamed oflosing what I most wanted."
"But it's not all strange to you as it is to me. I can't quite believethat there's nothing on my shoulders--no care, no anxiety, just--well,_your_ shoulders! Oh, but," she went on hastily, "don't think that meansI want you to carry everything for me; indeed I don't. I want tocarry--half!"
"Ah, but that's it," he answered. "My shoulders for your burdens, yoursfor mine. That way neither of us will feel half the weight of either.I'm not pretending that I shall give you a life of wholly shelteredease; it won't be that, and you don't want it, not in thisburden-bearing world. But--you shall have some things that you have beendenied, my brave girl! Georgiana, I can't tell you how it touchedme--the dress you made to be married in."
Her eyes went down now before the look in his.
"I'll tell you fairly that I longed with all my heart to take you tosome place worthy of your beauty and find a wedding gown for you--notnecessarily a very costly one, but one that should bring out all you arecapable of showing. But when I saw you, looking just yourself, in thesilk that was like your mother's,"--he leaned forward, taking both herhands in his and looking straight into her face, compelling her gaze tolift to his lest she should miss what she knew was there,--"I feltsomething inside my heart break wide open--with worship for you, little,strong, splendid spirit that you are!"
He pressed the hands against his lips. Then he touched two rings uponher left hand: exquisite and rare jewels were set in both engagement andwedding rings, after the modern fashion. But there was a third ringthere, guarding the others, a slender band of gold, worn thin by manyyears of hard, self-forgetting work--the ring which David Warne hadplaced twenty-seven years ago upon the hand of his bride. JeffersonCraig studied all three, turning them round and round upon the rosyfinger they encircled.
Presently he spoke again, very gently: "My rings on your hand mean to melove and beauty, loyalty and truth. But her ring stands for all thatand--service. We need it there, to remind us what we owe the world welive in. She paid her debt; we'll pay ours, in memory of her. Bless herfor giving me her daughter!"
For a minute Georgiana could not speak. Then, with her dark eyessparkling through the mist of tears which had taken her unawares, sheseized his hand and lifted it to press her glowing cheek against it,saying passionately: "Oh, _how_ you understand!"
They were silent for a long time after that, while the train flew on,through the gathering darkness of the late December afternoon, into thenight....
Georgiana had supposed that they were to go at once to the old home, forshe knew that Craig could not be long away at this time, and there wasmuch to do there. But she found that instead of changing trains in thegreat city, sixty miles beyond which lay the home village, they wereleaving the station to be conveyed in a waiting car to a hotel.
"If you had been spending all these years in cities," was Craig'sexplanation, "I should have felt like plunging at once with you into thesolitude. But as it is--well, I wondered if we shouldn't like to hearsome great music to-night. Do you feel as I do--that there are timeswhen nothing but music can speak for you?"
"But you," she said, "who live in the rush all the time----"
"There's no rush here for me," he answered. "Nobody is likely to know mehere; I can forget the whole world in the midst of the crowd with youto-night. As for the music--I've been on short rations a good whilemyself. I think we can feast together, don't you?"
It was all a fairy tale to Georgiana, that evening in the city. Hercollege days had been spent in a small college town which, though it hadlain not many miles away from this same great metropolis, had seldomseen her leave it for the privileges which richer girls enjoyed at everyweek-end.
As for the superb hotel to which Craig took her, although she had seenits impressive front, she had never so much as stood within its statelylobby. Now she experienced all sorts of queer little thrills, as shewatched the accustomed ease with which her husband led her through thebrief details of arrival and noted with what deference he was received.Evidently he had been expected, for there was no delay in the smoothservice which took them to an apartment reserved by wire, as Georgianagathered from a word she overheard.
He was quite right; a touch of this was what she needed, as a bird longconfined needs a chance to stretch its wings. To this girl, with vividlife stirring in her pulses, the unaccustomed experience could but be adelight, with such a companion to show her the way. Every detail had itsown fascination, such as might never come again when she should be morewonted to such scenes. The dinner served in their own smalldrawing-room, the flowers which crowned the table, the blithe talk Craigmade during the little feast, with all its pretty, ceremonious detail ofservice; finally the short drive to the place where the great music, asCraig had called it, was to be heard--it all made a richly enchantingpicture in Georgiana's mind.
When at length she sat beside her husband in the immense, silentaudience, listening to such splendid harmonies as only once or twice inher lifetime she had heard before, her heart was far too full for words.He did not ask them of her, understanding something of what was passingin her mind, though not even his more than ordinary powers of sympathycould have guessed at all that held her breathless through those hoursof supreme delight.
Certain words of a Psalm, which she had often heard her father quote,came into her mind and repeated themselves over and over. She had smiledwith a bitter irony sometimes when she had heard him speak them in atone of utter thankfulness, while she had been quite unable to imaginehow he could use them of himself. But now--now--surely they applied toher!
Along with the sweep of the conductor's baton, with the rise and surgeof one of the greatest of the symphonies, ran the triumphant words ofthe singer of old time: "_Thou hast set my feet in a large room._"
Surely it was a large room into which, from a cramped and restrictedone, she had emerged. She would do small honour to the devout life whichhad so long been lived beside her if she should fail to give the praiseto the Maker of all life, who, according to her father's firm belief,had known from the beginning all for which He had been so wisely fittingher.