CHAPTER XII.
THE MASKED BRIDAL.
"Oh, Mrs. Weld!" Mrs. Goddard exclaimed, in tones of well-assumedeagerness. "I am so glad you are here! I fear I have taken cold and amgoing to have a chill; will you be so good as to go down and mix me ahot lemonade and send it out behind the stage to me? for I must goback directly, and I will drink it there."
The housekeeper arose at once and went out into the hall, where shesaw that madam appeared excited and trembling, while her face was verypale, although her eyes were unusually bright.
Somehow, she did not believe her to be ill; but she cheerfully accededto her request, and went directly below to attend to her commission.
As she passed down the back stairs, Edith came hurrying up the frontway.
"What has happened?" she inquired, as she observed madam's unusualexcitement.
"The most unfortunate thing that could occur," she nervously replied."Miss Kerby and her brother, who had the leading parts in the play,have just been summoned home, by telegraph, on account of sickness inthe family, and that leaves us without our hero and heroine."
"That is unfortunate, surely; the play will have to be given up, Isuppose?" Edith remarked.
"No, indeed! I should die of mortification!" cried madam, withwell-assumed consternation.
"But what can you do?" innocently inquired the young girl.
"The only thing to be done is to supply their places with others," wasthe ready answer. "I have a gentleman friend who will take Mr. Kerby'splace, and I want you, Edith, to assume the part of the bride; you arejust about the size of Alice Kerby, and the costume will fit you toperfection."
"But I am afraid I cannot--I never took part in a play in my life,"objected Edith, who instinctively shrank from becoming so conspicuousbefore such a multitude of people.
"Nonsense! there is but very little for you to do," said madam, "youhave simply to walk into the church, upon the arm of the supposedbride's father. You will be masked, and no one will see your faceuntil after all is over, and you have not a word to say, except torepeat the marriage service after the clergyman."
Edith shivered, and her face had grown very pale. She did not like theidea at all; it was exceedingly repugnant to her.
"I wish you could find some one else," she said, appealingly.
"There is no time," said madam.
"Oh! but it seems almost like sacrilege to me, to stand before such anaudience and repeat words so solemn and significant, when they willmean nothing, when the whole thing will be but a farce," Edithtremulously remarked.
A strange expression swept over madam's face at this objection.
"You are absurdly conscientious, Edith," she coldly observed. "Thereis not another girl in the house upon whom I can call--they are alltoo large or too small, and the bridal costume would not fit one ofthem. Pray, pray, Miss Allen, pocket your scruples, for once, and helpme out of this terrible predicament--the whole affair will be ruinedby this awkward _contretemps_ if you do not, and I, who have promisedso much to my friends, shall become the laughing-stock of every onepresent."
Still the fair girl hesitated.
Some unaccountable influence seemed to be holding her back, and yetshe felt that it would be very ungenerous, very disobliging of her, toallow Mrs. Goddard to be so humiliated before her hundreds of guests,when this apparently slight concession upon her part would smootheverything over so nicely.
"Oh, Edith! say you will!" cried the woman, appealingly. "You must!"she added, imperatively. "Come to my room--the costume is there allready, and we will soon have you dressed."
She threw her arm around the girl's slender waist and almost compelledher to accompany her.
The moment they were within Mrs. Goddard's chamber, the womannervously began to unfasten the young girl's dress, but her fingerstrembled so with excitement, showing how wrought up she was, thatEdith yielded without further demur, and assisted in removing herclothing.
"That is good of you, dear," said madam, smiling upon her, "for wemust work very rapidly while the scenery is being changed--we havejust fifteen minutes"--glancing at the clock. "How fortunate it isthat I asked you to wear white this evening!" the crafty womanremarked, as Edith's dress was removed, thus revealing her daintyunderwear, "for you are all ready for the wedding costume without anyother change. Here, dear, just help me, please, with this skirt, forthe train is so long it needs to be handled with care."
She lifted the beautiful satin skirt from the bed as she spoke, andtogether they carefully slipped it over the young girl's head.
The next moment it was fastened about her waist, and the lustrousmaterial fell around her slender form in graceful and artistic folds.
The corsage was then put on and--wonderful to relate--it fitted her toperfection.
"How strange! one would almost think it was made for me!" sheremarked, all unsuspicious that her measure had been accurately takenfrom a dress that had been left in the city.
"Ha! ha!" laughed madam, in musical exultation, "I should say that itwas a very fortunate coincidence, and it shows that I made a wisechoice when I selected you to take Miss Kerby's place. I did not knowwho else to call upon--of course I could not go out into the audienceto find some one, and thus betray my predicament to everybody; neithercould I take one of the housemaids, because she would have been sureto blunder and be so awkward. Oh! isn't this dress just lovely?"
Thus madam chattered, while she worked, wholly unlike herself,nervous, anxious, and covertly watching every expression of Edith'ssensitive face.
But the girl did not have the slightest suspicion that she was beingtricked.
The emergency of the moment appeared sufficient to tax the nerves ofany one to the utmost, and she attributed everything to that.
"It certainly is a very rich and elegant costume," Edith gravelyresponded to the woman's query. "It seems to me to be far too nice andelaborate for the occasion."
Mrs. Goddard reddened slightly, and shot a quick, searching look atthe girl's face.
"Well, of course it had to be nice to correspond with everythingelse," she explained, "for all the other young ladies are to weartheir ball costumes, which are very elegant, and since the bride is tobe the most conspicuous of all, it would not do to have her lessrichly attired. There!"--as she fastened a beautiful cluster oforange-blossoms to the corsage and stepped back to study theeffect--"aren't you just lovely in it?"
"Now the veil," she continued, catching it up from the bed."Oh!"--with an expression of dismay--"we have forgotten the boots, andyou must not sit down to crush the dress. Here, support yourself uponthis chair, hold out your foot, and I will put them on for you."
And the haughty woman went down upon her knees and performed themenial service, regardless, in her excitement, of her own elegantcostume, which was being crushed in the act.
Then the veil was adjusted, madam chatting all the while to keep thegirl's attention, and Edith, catching a glimpse of her reflection inthe glass and under the influence of her companion's magnetism andenthusiasm, began to be imbued with something of the spirit of theoccasion and to enjoy seeing herself adorned with these beautifulgarments, which so enhanced her beauty.
When everything was done, madam stood back to look at her work, anduttered an exclamation of delight.
"Oh! you are simply perfect, Edith!" she said. "You are just toolovely for anything! Miss Kerby would not have made nearly sobeautiful a bride, and--and--I could almost wish that you were reallygoing to be married."
"Oh, no!" cried the fair girl, shrinking back from the strange gleamthat shone from the woman's eyes, as she made this remark, while herthoughts flew, with the speed of light and with a yearning so intensethat it turned her white as snow, to Royal Bryant, the man to whom,all unasked, she had given her heart.
Then, as if some instinct had accused her of unmaidenly presumption, aflush, that was like the rosy dawn upon the eastern sky, suffused herfair face, neck, and bosom.
"Ha! ha! not if you could marry the man of yo
ur choice?" queriedmadam, with a gleam of malice in her dark eyes and a strange note oftriumph in her silvery laugh that again caused her companion to regardher curiously.
"Oh! please do not jest about it in this light way--marriage is toosacred to be treated with levity," said Edith, in a tremulous tone."But where is the mask?" she added, glancing anxiously toward the bed."You know you said the face of the bride was not to be seen."
"Here it is," responded madam, snatching the dainty thing from thebed. "See! it goes on under the veil, like this"--and she dextrouslyslipped the silver-fringed piece of gauze beneath the edge of the veiland fastened the chain under the orange-wreath behind.
The fringe fell just to Edith's chin, thus effectually concealing herfeatures, while it was not thick enough to prevent her seeing,distinctly, everything about her.
A few other details were attended to, and then Mrs. Goddard hurriedlysaid:
"Come, now, we must hasten," and she gathered up the voluminous trainand laid it carefully over Edith's arm. "We shall have to go the backway, through the billiard-room, because no one must see you until youappear upon the stage."
The carriage-house adjoined the mansion, and was connected with it bya door, at the end of a hall, that opened into a large room over itwhich had been devoted to billiards.
In the rear of this there was a stairway, which led down to the firstfloor and behind the stage; thus Madam and Edith were enabled to reachthe dressing-room without being seen by any one, and just as theorchestra were playing the closing bars of the last selection beforethe raising of the curtain.
Here they found a tall, elderly gentleman, in full evening dress, whowas to represent the supposed bride's father in giving his child awayto the groom.
All the other actors were already grouped upon the stage or in theirrespective places behind the scenes awaiting the coming of the bride.
Outside, the audience were all upon the _qui vive_, for, not only wasthe closing act of the very clever play looked forward to with muchinterest, for its own sake, but the genuine surprise promised them wasa matter for much curious conjecture and eager anticipation.
As Edith stepped upon the stage, leaning upon the arm of her escort,the bridesmaids and maid of honor filed into place before them fromthe wings, and all were ready for the _grand finale_ just as thesignal was given for the curtain to go up.
A shiver ran over Edith, shaking her from head to foot as that sharp,incisive sound from the silver bell went ringing through the room.
For, as she had stepped upon the stage and Mrs. Goddard laid her handupon the arm of the elderly gentleman, she had observed the twoexchange meaning smiles, while the maids and ushers, as they had filedinto place, had regarded her with marked and admiring curiosity.
The curtain was raised, revealing to the appreciative audience theinterior of a beautiful little church.
It was perfect and complete in all its appointments, even to thestained glass windows, the altar, the chancel, the organ, and theexquisite floral decorations suitable for a wedding ceremony.
Simultaneously with this revelation there broke upon the ear and thebreathless hush that prevailed throughout the rooms the sound of anorgan playing the customary wedding-march.
Presently, at the rear of the church, a door opened, and four ushersentered, "with stately tread and slow," followed by as manybridesmaids, dressed in exquisite costumes.
Then came the maid of honor, clad in pale-blue satin, and carrying ahuge bunch of pink roses that contrasted beautifully with her daintytoilet.
Next, the veiled and masked bride appeared, leaning upon the arm ofher attendant and clasping a costly bouquet of white orchids, whichMrs. Goddard had produced from some mysterious source, and thrust intoher hands at the last moment.
A thrill of awe, mingled with intensest curiosity, pervaded theaudience as the graceful figure of the beautiful girl came slowly intoview.
The whole affair was so vividly real and impressive that every onewatched the scene with breathless interest.
And now, at one side of the chancel, another door was seen to open,when a spotlessly-gowned clergyman, followed by the groom and bestman, entered and proceeded slowly toward the altar.
The two men behind the minister were in full evening dress, the onlypeculiar thing noticeable being the mask of black gauze edged withsilver fringe which the groom wore over his face.
They reached the altar at the same moment that the rest of the bridalparty paused before it.
Then, as the clergyman turned his face toward the audience and thelight from the chandelier above him fell full upon him, a flutter ofexcitement ran throughout the room, while many persons were seen toexchange glances of undisguised astonishment, for they had recognizeda popular young divine--the pastor of a church, which many of thosepresent, together with their hostess, were in the habit of attending.
What could it mean?
Surely, no ordained minister who respected himself and reverenced hiscalling would lend himself to a sensational farce, such as they hadwitnessed that evening--at least, to carry it to such an extent as toread, in mockery, the service of the sacred ordinance of marriage overa couple of giddy actors!
There was a nervous, fluttering of programs, a restless movement amongthe fashionable throng, which betrayed that, however much they mightbe given to pleasure and levity in certain directions, they could notquite countenance this perversion of a divine institution as a matterof amusement.
The manner and bearing of the man, however, was most reverential anddecorous, and, as he opened and began to read from the elegantprayer-book which he carried in his hands, a breathless hush againsettled upon every person in the room.
For, like a flash, it had seemed to burst upon every mind that therewas to be a _bona fide_ marriage--that this was to be the "GenuineSurprise" that had been promised them!