Master of the Vineyard Part 56

Rosemary had packed her few belongings the day before, in the little old-fashioned trunk that had been her mother's. As she dressed, Aunt Matilda sat on the bed, pathetically eager to help in some way, though it might be only to pin up a stray lock or tie a shoe.

Rosemary shook out the dull ashen ma.s.ses of her hair with a sigh. As she put it up, Alden's big betrothal diamond blazed star-like upon her rough, red hand. She contemplated it ruefully--it seemed so out of place--then brightened at the memory of the promise Mrs. Marsh had made so long ago.

"She'll teach me how to take care of my hands," said Rosemary, half to herself, "so they'll look like hers."

"She?" repeated Aunt Matilda. "Who?"

[Sidenote: Matilda's Compensation]

"Mrs. Marsh--mother."

"Yes, I guess she will. She'll teach you a lot of things Ma and me have never heard tell of. Maybe you'd just as soon ask her, Rosemary, why she never returned my call?"

"I will, surely. I don't think she meant anything by it, Aunt Matilda.

She might have been busy and forgotten about it. Anyhow, you'll have to come to see me now."

"Yes, I will. I've thought I'd put the minister's tintype up on the mantel now, as long as Ma ain't likely to see it. It'll be company for me. And I reckon I'll get me a cat. I always wanted one and Ma would never let me have it. I can keep it down-stairs and she may never know about it, but even if she hears it meowing, or me talkin' to it, she can't say nothin' about it.

"My, ain't it beautiful!" she continued, as Rosemary slipped her white gown over her head. "Please let me hook it up, Rosemary--this is as near as I'll ever come to a wedding. Are you going in to see her before you go?"

Rosemary hesitated. "Yes," she sighed, "I'll go. I think I ought to."

"Don't if you don't want to. I wouldn't spoil my wedding-day by doing anything I didn't like to do."

[Sidenote: Grandmother Relaxes]

"I want to," murmured Rosemary. "I wouldn't feel right not to."

So, when she was ready, she went into the old lady's room. Happiness made her almost lovely as she stood there in her simple white gown and big plumed hat, drawing long white kid gloves over her red hands.

"Grandmother," she said, tremulously, "I'm going up to the church now, to be married to Alden Marsh. Before I go, I want to tell you I'm sorry if I've ever done anything I shouldn't do, and ask you to forgive me for any unhappiness I may ever have caused you. I haven't meant to do it, and I--I believe you've meant to be good to me. I hope you're glad I'm going to be happy now."

The stern old face relaxed, ever so little, the sharp eyes softened with mist, and by tremendous effort, Grandmother put out a withered, wavering hand. Rosemary bent over the bed, lifted her in her strong young arms, and kissed her twice, then hurried away.

Alden met them as they were half-way to the church, and, utterly regardless of two or three interested children who happened to be pa.s.sing, shook hands with Aunt Matilda, then bent to kiss the flushed and happy face under the big plumed hat.

"What magnificence!" he said. "I'm unworthy of so much splendour, I'm afraid. How on earth did you manage it?"

[Sidenote: The Ceremony]

Rosemary glanced at Aunt Matilda, then laughed a little sadly. "Oh," she answered, with a.s.sumed lightness, "I--just managed it, that's all."

At the door of the church Madame welcomed them with an armful of white roses for the bride. She, too, had a new gown in honour of the occasion, and her sweet old face was radiant with smiles. "What a lovely bride,"

she said, as she kissed Rosemary. "Oh, my dear! You mustn't, truly! No tears on a wedding-day!"

The minister was waiting at the altar. Madame and Aunt Matilda sat down together in a front pew; there was a moment's solemn hush, then the beautiful service began.

Sunlight streamed through the open windows, carrying the colour and fragrance of Autumn into every nook and cranny of the church. From outside came the cheery piping of a robin that had paused upon a convenient window sill to peep in. There was a rush of tiny, furred feet through the drifted leaves, and a gleam of scarlet as a falling maple leaf floated past the open door. In the sunlight the taper lights on the altar gleamed like great stars suddenly come to earth.

"That ye may so live together in this life," the deep voice was saying, "and in the life everlasting. Amen!"

[Sidenote: Good-byes]

After the benediction, came the minister's perfunctory congratulations.

When he called her "Mrs. Marsh," Rosemary instinctively looked toward Madame, then laughed and blushed when she understood. Madame took the girl into her arms as she came down from the altar. "Dear daughter!" she said. "Truly my daughter, now!"

Aunt Matilda and Rosemary hurried back to the little brown house, mindful of Alden's whispered admonition: "Don't keep me waiting long, dear--please." Neither spoke until after Rosemary had changed her gown, and stood before her mirror in pale l.u.s.trous grey, with hat and gloves to match.

"I'll go in and say good-bye to Grandmother," Rosemary said.

"Wait a minute. She may be asleep."

Aunt Matilda tiptoed into the old lady's room, then came out again, with her finger on her lips. "She's sound asleep," she said, "and her face looks as if she felt better. I guess she'll come to herself again all right. The Starrs have always been healthy and hard to kill."

[Sidenote: Into the World]

So the two went down-stairs quietly. When the door was opened, Rosemary saw that Alden was waiting for her at the gate. Smiling and with joy thrilling her to the utmost fibre of her being, Rosemary kissed Aunt Matilda good-bye, then ran out to where her bridegroom was waiting, to lead her into the world of service--and of love.

THE END