“Old bachelors are as excitable concerning marriage as old spinsters can possibly be. See Mr. John Dunlap, how flushed and nervous he seems! He hovers about the bride like an anxious mother!” So said two elderly grand-dames behind their fans while watching the group about Burton’s fair young wife.
Among that gay and gallant company moved one restless figure and peering face. David Chapman, leaving his sister, Miss Arabella, under the protecting care of Mrs. Church, lest during the confusion of so large a gathering, some daring cavalier, enamored of her maiden-charms, should elope with the guileless creature, mingled with the throng of guests, unobtrusive, but ever vigilant and watchful.
Chapman’s countenance bore an odd expression, a mixture of satisfied curiosity, vindictiveness and regret.
That very day a superannuated sailor who for years had served the house of Dunlap, and now acted as ship-keeper for vessels in its employ, called to report to the superintendent some trifling loss. Before leaving he asked respectfully, knuckling his forehead.
“Is the manager goin’ to marry ter’day?”
“Yes; why?” said Chapman sharply.
“Nothin’ ’cept I’ve often seen his mother and took notice of him here,” replied the man.
“Where did you see Mr. Burton’s mother? Who was she?” Chapman asked eagerly in his keen way.