First come George LeMonde, best man, and Miss Stella Nebeker, bridesmaid, with her arm linked in his. Then follow arm in arm Rev. Jasper Very, bridegroom, and Rev. John Larkin, the officiating minister. In the rear we behold the lovely bride, Miss Viola LeMonde, beautifully dressed, leaning upon the arm of her father, Judge LeMonde. Under the shadow of the pine trees, near the piazza, the wedding company take position, and the ceremony begins.
The minister asks: "Who gives the bride away?" The Judge replies: "I give the bride away," and he walks to the rear while the bride steps to the side of the bridegroom. The ceremony, brief but most impressive, is conducted according to the ritual of the church, and the minister solemnly pronounces them husband and wife.
Presently the black people under the leadership of Mose and others go to their quarters to enjoy the great barbecue feast. The white people are invited to take seats around the loaded tables placed under the pines trees. As we glance over the company we behold many kind friends whom we have met in the course of this narrative. A large number from the mission school were there, including the whole Spink family, and some members of the Sneath and Wiles families. They were under the care of Miss Henrietta Harvey, who was now their capable and devoted superintendent.
Jolly Costello Nebeker and his good lady were present. He seemed to thrive in every way by running his tavern on cold water principles. His hearty, hilarious laugh was as contagious as the measles. Honest David Hester and his folks were given seats near the head of the table. The other planters were also well represented: Abner Hunt, the fiery little man from down river, and Hans Schmidt, the large, fair-faced German, with several others. Hiram Sanders, the herculean blacksmith of Bridgewater, had a place at the table.
When the great feast was nearly over and ices were being served, Judge LeMonde arose and thus spoke: "Dear friends, I do not wish to interrupt the meal, neither do I wish to make a speech, only to say that Madam LeMonde and myself count this one of the greatest days of our lives. It surely has a tinge of sorrow in it but the joy far surpasses the sadness. I am very glad indeed to behold you enjoying the felicities of the occasion. There is a bit of the program to take place that nobody on the grounds knows anything about except Mrs. LeMonde and myself. I request at this time that my son George go to the slaves' gathering and bring back with him my servant Mose."
Without a moment's hesitation George started to do the errand his father asked. By the time the ices had disappeared the white man and the black man came on to the lawn. A look of curiosity and wonder passed over the company, and all gazed in the direction of the Judge and his servant.
As to Mose he was much taken aback. He appeared confused and bewildered. He thought it was not possible that his master would blame him for neglecting some duty or doing a bad deed on such a day and before such a company.
The Judge, calling his servant to come near, arose and said: "I have decided on this memorable occasion to repay in some measure the devotion and sacrifice of a very faithful and trustworthy servant. I have found Mose honest, obedient, kind, and always willing to do his part of the work. More than this he has risked his life to protect his young mistress from falling into the hands of desperate outlaws. Because of this heroic endeavor I have decided, Mose, to set you free. I hold in my hand the paper properly made out, and from this hour you are free to go where you will. But we do not want to lose you from the plantation. If you stay, I will pay you suitable wages for your work. I will also give you three acres of good land near the negroes' quarters and will build a nice frame house upon it. I am sure my daughter Viola will be glad to furnish the house as a reward for the service you rendered her. In due time you can bring the young woman to whom you are engaged to the house as your bride.
"What do you say, Mose, will you go or stay?"
The poor black man was almost too overcome with emotion to answer a word. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he could scarcely stand. However, he managed to say: "Mas'r LeMonde, how kin Ah thank you fur yo' kindness! Leave you an' dis plantation? Not while de sun shines in de heavens. As Ah was willin' to die fer Miss Viola, I would any time lay dow my life fer you, Judge, or ary one of de fambly."