“Well, but one’s a lord and t’other a lion! And them two’s as much as a regiment! So look alive, nigger, and put your best foot first before the foreigners,” said the housekeeper, with vim.
While active preparations were in progress at Mondreer, all the Grandieres, with Mrs. Hedge, little Rosemary and Miss Sibby Bayard, returned to the neighborhood.
The sensational news they brought from Washington spread “like wildfire” through the county, and the capture of the Kitty by the Argente; the taking of the Argente by the Eagle; the detection of the true character of the adventurer whom they had known and lionized as Col. Angus Anglesea; the discovery of Roland Bayard’s parentage; the approaching marriage of Leonidas with Odalite, and of Roland with Rosemary—formed the topics of conversation at all the tea tables and in all the barrooms for many miles around.
In the height of all this gossip, the Forces, with their two foreign guests, returned to Mondreer.
They immediately became the objects of daily, yes, hourly calls. Every acquaintance of the family, high and low, rich and poor, came to welcome them back to Mondreer, and all were received with courtesy.
Invitations were sent out “broadcast” for the double wedding to be celebrated at All Faith Church on the first of the ensuing June.
When that day dawned at length the sun arose in a sky as bright and blue and shone upon a world as green and fresh as ever blessed the bridals of youth and beauty.
At a very early hour the church was filled with the nearest friends of the wedding parties, while scores of invited guests who could not press into the building for want of space sat in their carriages that filled the grove.
At ten o’clock the venerable clergyman appeared in the chancel, robed in his white surplice, and attended by his curate and clerk, and with their appearance a whisper went around the congregation that the bridal procession was approaching.
This was true. A moment later the doors were noiselessly thrown open, and the ushers entered, standing on the right and on the left. Then the bride, Odalite, appeared leaning on the arm of her father. Her dress on this occasion was very plain and simple—a white silk, trained, and a long, white tulle veil, with a very slender wreath of orange buds, gloves, boots, handkerchiefs and bouquet to match, but no jewelry. Behind her walked her bridesmaids, Wynnette and Elva, girls even more simply dressed in white than herself.