CHAPTER FIFTY
The evenings from early dusk until late, Jean spent upon the roof, and her first feeling, of being high and safe from all turmoil, deepened. Its peace was tangible. Something within herself reached out to meet it, as something within had reached toward the spirit of the hills and sea in the blue days with Herrick. Something within herself was part of a universal spirit, and here upon her roof, the spirit was one of peace.
On Friday a note was forwarded from Alice. The wedding was to be on Saturday afternoon at four o'clock. "Don't forget, four means four because we have to catch the seven boat," Alice wrote, as if she were inviting Jean to a tennis match and four o'clock marked the limit of the entries.
Jerome must have returned. The wedding was to take place. Things were going to be as they had been, untangled and proceeding logically. Jean was happy. The last miserable days on Grove Street, dimmed by this wonderful week, high on her quiet roof, faded to sincere pity for Catherine, bitter, caustic, and slyly watching from windows; and Philip, weak, servile, lonely Philip.
On Saturday, a little before four, Jean entered the Stuart living-room, and then stood wondering whether, after all, she had not mistaken the hour and the ceremony was not over. Alice, in a pale yellow dress, a favorite of Jerome's, was laughing with the minister, a venerable, white haired person with twinkling, merry eyes. Sidney and two friends were moving a victrola and Jean caught Jerome's voice arguing with Malone about the supper seating. The next moment, Alice caught sight of her and hurried over.
"Awfully glad you made it. We're just about to begin."
"I'm glad it's not over."
"It would have been only Sid forgot to tell the minister and so we had to scratch round and get old Dr. Gillet. Isn't he a dream?"
"Made for the part."
"Looks like one of the Prophets after a good dinner, doesn't he? The old duck!"