Down from the chamber, passing the old clock on the stairs, came Major Robert Walden, in bright, new uniform, and Ruth Newville in satin, white and pure.
Reverend Doctor Cooper spoke of the bravery of the bridegroom in battle, the manliness of character that fitted him for fighting the battle of life. Tears came to many eyes as he pictured the love of a maiden who rescued her beloved, swept by life’s ebbing tide far out towards a shoreless sea.
They who stood around beheld the countenance of the bride transfigured as she pronounced the words, “to love, to honor, and cherish him.”
Amid the general joy, one heart alone felt a momentary pang. Never might Rachel whisper such words to him whose last thought had been of her, who had given his life that liberty might live.
Once more food was to be had from the marketmen around Faneuil Hall—joints of beef, pigs, sausages, chickens, turkeys, vegetables and fruit, brought in by the farmers of Braintree, Dedham, and Roxbury. Fishermen once more could sail down the harbor, drop their lines for cod and mackerel on the fishing ground beyond the Outer Brewster, and return to the town without molestation from a meddling town major.
With joyful countenance and conscious dignity, Pompey perambulated the market, inspecting what the hucksters had for sale.
“I want de juiciest j’int, de tenderest, fattest turkey, de freshest eggs right from de nest, ’cause de ’casion is to be Missus Ruth’s weddin’ dinner,” he said.
Many banquets had Phillis prepared, but never one like the dinner for Miss Ruth on her wedding day.
“I’ve roasted de turkey and sparrib for Massa Ginerel Howe and Massa Ginerel Clinton, but dey ain’t of no ’count ’side Massa Major Walden and Massa Ginerel Washington, ’cause dey drive de redcoats out of Boston. Miss Ruth fired de pistil and I scaldid dem with de b’ilin’ water. He! he! he!” she laughed.
It was a pleasure to stuff the turkey, to turn the joint of beef roasting on the spit, mix the plums in the pudding, and mould the mince pies for Ruth and her friends.