Grandmother Van Kortlandt came down. She laid off her mourning and wore her black velvet gown with its English crown point lace. Grandmother Underhill came too, but she wore black silk with her pretty fine lace fichu that she had been married in herself. Uncle David, and Aunt Eunice, who wore a gray satin that had been made for her eldest son's wedding. There were Underhill cousins by the score, some Bounetts from New Rochelle, some Vermilyeas, for no one really worth while was to be slighted.
The day had been very fine and sunny. That was a sign the bride would be merry and happy and pleasant to live with. And when the evening fell the great lawn was all alight with Chinese lanterns that a second cousin in the tea trade had sent Dolly. All the front of the big old house was illuminated. It was square, with a great cupola on top of the second story, and that was in a blaze of light as well.
The Underhills all went up early. Steve was very proud of his mother, who had a pretty changeable silk, lilac and gray, and Joe had given her a collar and cuffs of Honiton lace, to wear at his wedding, he said.
They went in to see the bride when she was dressed. Of course she was beautiful, a pretty girl couldn't look otherwise in her wedding gear. Her veil was put on with orange blossoms and buds, and delicately scented. There was a wreath of the same over one shoulder and across her bosom. Her hair was done in a marvellous fashion, and looked like a golden crown.
How the carriages rolled around and the silks rustled up and down the stairs. There were gay voices and soft laughs, and presently word was sent that the Reverend Dr. De Witt had arrived. Then the immediate family went down. Dolly stooped and kissed Hanny and told her she must not feel a mite afraid. The young men filed out. Stephen took Dolly, just putting her white-gloved hand on his arm as if it was the most precious thing in the world. Joe, smiling and really much handsomer than Stephen, though you couldn't persuade Dolly to any such heresy; then Doctor Hoffman and the others. They seemed to float down the broad stairs. The rooms were very large, but oh, how full they were! The procession walked through the back parlor; Stephen and Dolly and the little girl went straight up to Dr. De Witt, who stood there in his gown and bands, a sweet, reverential old man. The bridesmaids and groomsmen made a half-circle around. There was some soft beautiful music, then a silence. Dr. De Witt began. Dorothea Beekman and Stephen Decatur Underhill promised each other and all the world, to love and cherish, and live together according to God's holy ordinance all their lives.
The little girl held the flowers and listened attentively. She had an idea there must be a great deal more to it and was almost disappointed, for she could not understand that it included all one's life. Dr. De Witt bent over and kissed the bride with solemn reverence. Then Stephen kissed his wife. There was a great deal of kissing afterward, for the new husband kissed the bridesmaids, and the groomsmen had a right to kiss the bride. The mothers had their turn next, and afterward all was laughing confusion.
In the midst of this Philip Hoffman leaned over Margaret.
"I believe you kiss the bridesmaid, too," he said, in a serious fashion, and touched her soft red lips with his. Margaret's face was scarlet, and her breath seemed taken away.
They made a pretty semicircle afterward, and all the guests came up with good wishes. There were so many elegantly dressed people that the little girl was half dazed. I forgot to tell you that she wore her string of gold beads, and they always had a wedding flavor after that.
Presently the procession re-formed and went out to the dining-room, where the table ought to have groaned, if tables ever do. There were some immaculate black waiters who handed one thing after another. The bride cut the cake of both kinds—pound cake like gold, and fruit cake rich enough to give you indigestion. And this wasn't the regular supper.