THE WHARTON WEDDING.
It was at last settled that the Wharton marriage should take place during the second week in June.There were various reasons for the postponement.In the first place Mary Wharton, after a few preliminary inquiries, found herself forced to declare that Messrs Muddocks and Cramble could not send her forth equipped as she ought to be equipped for such a husband in so short a time.
'Perhaps they do it quicker in London,' she said to Everett with a soft regret, remembering the metropolitan glories of her sister's wedding.And then Arthur Fletcher could be present during the Whitsuntide holidays, and the presence of Arthur Fletcher was essential.And it was not only his presence at the altar that was needed;--Parliament was not so exacting but that he might have given that;--but it was considered by the united families to be highly desirable that he should on this occasion remain some days in the country.Emily had promised to attend the wedding, and would of course be at Wharton for at least a week.As soon as Everett had succeeded in wresting a promise from his sister, the tidings were conveyed to the Fletchers.
It was a great step gained.When in London she was her own mistress; but surrounded as she would be down in Hertfordshire by Fletchers and Whartons, she must be stubborn indeed if she should still refuse to be taken back into the flock, and be made once more happy by marrying the man whom she confessed that she loved with her whole heart.The letter to Arthur Fletcher containing the news was from his brother John, and was written in a very businesslike fashion.'We have put off Mary's marriage for a few days, so that you and she should be down here together.If you mean to go on with it, now is your time.' Arthur, in answer to this, merely said he would spend the Whitsuntide holidays at Longbarns.
It is probable that Emily herself had some idea in her own mind of what was being done to entrap her.Her brother's words to her had been so strong, and the occasion of the marriage was itself so sacred to her, that she had not been able to refuse his request.But from the moment that she had made the promise, she felt that she had greatly added to her own difficulties.That she could yield to Arthur never occurred to her.She was certain of her own persistency.Whatever might be the wishes of others, the fitness of things required that Arthur Fletcher's wife should not have been the widow of Ferdinand Lopez,--and required also that the woman who had married Ferdinand Lopez should bear the results of her own folly.Though since his death she had never spoken a syllable against him,--if those passionate words be excepted which Arthur himself had drawn from her,--still she had not refrained from acknowledging the truth to herself.He had been a man disgraced,--and she as his wife, having become his wife in opposition to the wishes of all her friends, was disgraced also.
Let them do what they will with her, she would not soil Arthur Fletcher's name with his infamy.Such was still her steadfast resolution; but she knew that it would be, not endangered, but increased in difficulty by this visit to Hertfordshire.
And there were other troubles.'Papa,' she said, 'I must get a dress for Everett's marriage.'
'Why not?'
'I can't bear, after all that I have cost you, putting you to such useless expense.'
'It is not useless, and such expenses as that I can surely afford without groaning.Do it handsomely and you will please me best.'
Then she went forth and chose her dress,--a grey silk, light enough not to throw quite a gloom on the brightness of the day, and yet dark enough to declare that she was not as other women are.The very act of purchasing this, almost blushing at her own request as she sat at the counter in her widow's weeds, was a pain to her.But she had no one whom she could employ.On such an occasion she could not ask her aunt Harriet to act for her, as her aunt was distrusted and disliked.And then there was the fitting on of the dress,--very grievous to her, as it was the first time since the heavy black mourning came home that she had clothed herself in other garments.
The day before that fixed for the marriage she and her father went down to Hertfordshire together, the conversation on the way being all in respect to Everett.Where was he to live? What was he to do? What income would he require till he should inherit the good things which destiny had in store for him? The old man seemed to feel that Providence, having been so very good to his son in killing that other heir, had put rather a heavy burden on himself.'He'll want a house of his own, of course,' he said, in a somewhat lachrymose tone.
'I suppose he'll spend a good deal of his time at Wharton.'
'He won't be content to live in another man's house altogether, my dear, and Sir Alured can allow him nothing.It means, of course, that I must give him a thousand a year.It seems very natural to him, I dare say, but he might have asked the question before he took a wife to himself.'
'You won't be angry with him, papa!'
'It's no good being angry.No;--I'm not angry.Only it seems that everybody is uncommonly well pleased without thinking who has to pay for the piper.'
On that evening, at Wharton, Emily still wore her mourning dress.
