Eustace Marchmont: A friend of the people

by Evelyn Everett-Green

It was a clear, sunny morning toward the end of January when Bride awoke with the consciousness that it was her wedding-day—though so quiet and uneventful a wedding as was to be hers perhaps no Duke’s daughter had yet known. Even her name would not be changed, as Eustace had playfully told her, nor would she leave the shelter of her father’s roof. All the change that would take place would be that she and her husband would take up their quarters in a suite of rooms specially prepared for them, with Bride’s nurse and Eustace’s man for their especial attendants. But the young wife would continue to take her place at her father’s table when he took his meals, waiting upon her husband and sharing his at different hours, such hours as were prescribed by his medical man. Although all this sounded strange to outsiders, who heard with amaze that Lady Bride was going to marry her father’s heir while he was still crippled and helpless, it did not seem strange to her. Others said it was an obvious marriage of convenience and diplomacy, but never had been a marriage of purer and truer affection. Bride robed herself with a happy heart and a serene face, and was not surprised to receive a message at the last that Abner would much like a few words with his young mistress, if she could spare them for him.

He was in the great conservatory when she went down—the place where so many talks had taken place between them, and where Bride pictured Eustace lying in comfort and pleasure before very long, surrounded by sweet scents and beautiful blossoms. Abner held in his hand a beautiful bouquet of white flowers, and Bride thanked him with one of her sweetest smiles as she took it from his hands.

“I did want to see yu my own self, my Ladybird,” he said in a voice that shook a little, “to wish yu every joy and a blessing on your new life. I know there will be a blessing on it, for there’s One above as has yu very near His heart; but yu’ll let an old man as has loved yu ever since yu were a babe in the nurse’s arms give yu his blessing to-day.”

Bride held out her slim white hand, which the old man took and carried very tenderly to his lips; and her voice shook a little as she said, “Thank you for that blessing, Abner. I feel my heart the warmer for it. We know that this world’s happiness is but a small thing compared to the glory that is to be revealed; but yet we must be thankful when it does come to us, and take it as God’s best gift. I think that your heart is at peace now, and that your worst trouble is laid at rest.”

“Bless the Lord—it is so indeed. My boy died with His name on his lips. I couldn’t ask more for myself.”

Bride could not linger. Mr. St. Aubyn had already arrived and wished to speak with her alone. She found him pacing the room with slow and thoughtful mien, but his eyes were very bright and glad.

“My child,” he said softly, “I wished to speak with you a few moments before we go upstairs. I have just been seeing him you are to wed. My dear, I think I need not say all that I feel about the change I find in him since first I knew him. I can pronounce the benediction of holy matrimony over you two with a glad and thankful heart. In the sight of man and of God such a union as yours must be holy indeed.”

Bride’s eyes were softly bright.

“I know we love one another,” she said softly, “but I think that the love of God comes first—indeed, I trust it is so.”

“I believe so truly,” he answered; “and, my child, I have been talking to-day to Eustace. He has long been hindered by sickness from the ordinances of the Church—the most blessed ordinance instituted by our Lord for His faithful people to follow until His coming again. Before that, as you know, he was something slack and doubtful, and did not avail himself of the Christian privileges in their fullest measure; and it is long since he has partaken of the bread and wine blessed in the name of the Lord. And he wishes now that he may receive this Holy Communion with you—his newly wedded wife—so soon as you are made one. I indeed have thankfully and joyfully assented to this, and even now the room is being prepared for the simple ceremony which shall make you his, and then you can together partake of that Body and Blood—the sign and symbol of the Ineffable Love. I am sure, my child, that your heart will rejoice, as mine does, over this return of the lost sheep to the fold. We have known for long that that son has been turning homewards, and that the Father has gone forth to meet him. Now we shall see him at the Father’s table, partaking of the mystical feast which it is our Christian privilege to enjoy. ‘Do this in remembrance of Me.’ It will, I know, be a joyous thing for you that the following of this gracious and simple command shall be the first act of your married life.”