Alice replied gravely, and with a pseudo-matronly air which was highly amusing, that although she must confess she had been interested and entertained by the play she had just witnessed, yet that she had listened to Arthur’s argument with Mr. Coverdale, and quite agreed in the view taken by the latter gentleman; for which sympathy of opinion Harry possessed himself of the lovely sympathiser’s hand, and pressed it gratefully; while he inwardly thanked heaven for having bestowed upon his future wife such a correct taste and sound understanding.—And so, between doctoring, and shopping, and sight-seeing, and hurrying dressmakers, and tailors, and coach-builders, and a host of minor tradesmen, all the wedding paraphernalia were purchased, a vast amount of business transacted, settlements prepared, and money spent; and a fortnight passed away so quickly, that it appeared like two or three days to the actors in the genteel comedy thus performed.
Then they all returned to the country, Harry going to the Park to make arrangements for the incoming of house-decorators and furnishers innumerable, who were to put to the rout all the old admiral’s bachelor abominations, and prepare the mansion for the reception of its fair mistress. That amiable young lady was beginning to find, by experience, that to be “going to be married” is very hard work indeed, the wear and tear of the feelings being a marked and alarming feature in the case. Thus, whenever Harry was away for a day, she found herself anxious, low-spirited, and a prey to innumerable misgivings lest evil should befall him. On one evening in particular, when he returned full twenty minutes later than he should have done, she felt so convinced that “dreadful trotting-mare” had by some means compassed his destruction, that she received him with a gentle shower of tears, which of course he kissed away, as he whispered that very soon she would be his dear little wife, and then nothing should part them even for an hour; and Alice smiled through her tears as she thought how, with every taste and feeling in common, they should trip gaily along the pathway of life, hand in hand, like a conjugal couple of Siamese twins. Dreams! pretty Alice, dreams! which many a young girl’s loving heart has framed ere this, only to awaken to a far different reality, and weep over the departure of such bright illusions.
But there was not much time for dreaming or romance at the Grange, for the “fatal day” came nearer and nearer with alarming velocity, until at last it actually arrived; and everybody was in such a state of excitement, that an uninitiated spectator might have imagined the whole household, instead of merely one member of it, was going to be married. As every one expected a most fatiguing day, of course no one slept a wink during the previous night; and as the match was in every way most desirable, and Alice enjoyed as fair a prospect of happiness as those who loved her best could wish her, of course all the women, the moment it was light, indulged in the feminine luxury of “a hearty cry;” after which libation to sensibility, they set to work in real earnest to dress themselves and each other as becomingly as they possibly could. On the bride’s dressing-table was found a set of pearl ornaments, supposed by the learned in such matters to have cost at least £500, together with a slip of paper, representing Mr. Crane’s best wishes for her happiness; which piece of generosity Alice thought very amiable and pretty of him, as indeed it was. Kate (wearing a splendid bracelet, giver unknown) and Emily were to be bridesmaids, and four of the prettiest bosom friends the bride possessed made up the team. These six susceptible young creatures turned out in light blue, and very nice they looked, only (as Master Tom, reprieved for a week from Eton in order to be present at the ceremony, observed), they did not step well together—a deficiency for which he accounted by remarking that his cousin Kate carried her head so high, without a bearing rein, and had such grand action, that it naturally made the other girls look rather screwy; and indeed Master Tom’s descriptive powers so far exceed our own, that we shall violate confidence by availing ourselves of a letter he dispatched the next morning to one of his friends at Eton, in which he gave his own impressions of the eventful day. It ran as follows:—
“Dear Tipsby,—If this blessed hot weather does not make dripping of a fellow prematurely, you will have an opportunity of weeping on the affectionate bussing of ‘Yours, truly,’ by the 5 p.m. train on Monday next. The cause of my shirking a week is not, as you impertinently insinuate, my having ‘over-goose-berried myself,’ but the no less alarming fact that my eldest sister has been and gone and committed matrimony, and I have waited to see her turned off. The ‘shocking event’ arrived at a climax (that’s grammar, ain’t it?) yesterday. I rose with the lark (i.e. Arthur, my big brother, came and dragged me out of bed at seven o’clock), and dressed myself. Yes, I should think I did—rather! Kerseymere sit-upons, made precious loose in the leg, and with a large pink check on a lavender ground—stunnin! satin vest, colours to sympathize; silk necktie, pink ground, lavender pattern, once round—ends at least a quarter of a yard long, and such a bow!—there’s high art for you, my boy!—and last, not least, real Oxford bang-tail coatee (none of your blackguard boys’ jackets), bright blue, with only two buttons and button-holes about it, and all sorts of jolly pockets in original places; but, don’t fret, you shall see it. Well, to return to our mutton, as the French say: very few showed at early breakfast, sensibilities superseding appetites in a general way, though I can’t say I perceived much difference as regarded number one: yet, when I come to think of it, I recollect I only eat three eggs; but then the ham was a real brick. Nothing particular occurred till we were to go to church; but when the traps came round, you may fancy there was something to look at. My brother-in-law, Coverdale—oh, Tips, he really is a fine fellow, as handsome as fun—can ride anything you like to put him across—a dead shot—A1 with his fists (’gad, I should be sorry to get even a left-hander from him), and as good-tempered and jolly as a cock; but you shall see him some day: well, he came up with his own horses, a pair of blood bays, he gave £350 for ’em, and they’re dirt cheap at the money; he is a first-rate judge of a horse; but I’ll tell you all about the traps when we meet. Then down came the girls; Ally (that’s my eldest sister), was smothered with veils, and flounces, and pearls, and that sort of nonsense; and looked precious pale and interesting, and like to blub; so we bundled her into the family-coach, and Coverdale jumped into his own trap, and away we all scuttled to church. We’ve got a good, sharp parson, that can go the pace slap up when he likes; and, knowing that the Champagne was waiting for him, he put the harness on ’em in no time; and the women did the water-cart business in style—where all their tears come from I can’t think—but they laid the dust beautifully. Then there was signing names in the vestry, and a lot of chaff about kissing the bride, which so upset that muff, Lambkin, the parson’s apprentice (curate, I suppose, is what they call the chap), that he fairly turned tail and bolted. Next, we all bundled home again; Ally in Coverdale’s trap this time (and precious handsome he looked, as he handed her in, I can tell you); and then came the ‘crowning mercy’ (as Lambkin said in his sermon last Sunday), the wedding breakfast. The governor had done the thing well for once in his life, I will say that for the old boy. There were all the delicacies of all the four seasons (one only wished one had four stomachs, like a camel, to pay them proper attention; though I didn’t do badly, in spite of my mono-stomachic conformation). Then the Champagne;—my dear Tips, I am not using a mere figure of rhetoric when I say the supply was unlimited;—how much I drank I literally cannot tell, but, in mentioning the affair to inquiring friends, you had better restrict your statement to half-a-dozen bottles—as a general rule, a gentleman should not take more on such occasions—it is not every man who possesses my strength of head and self-control. I sat next to one of the bridesmaids—
“‘A little, laughing fairy thing,
Just like an angel on the wing;’
A rosebud ’neath the moon’s pale ring;
A playful zephyr, whispering
Some secret to the early Spring.
As Tennyson has it—stunning poet, Tennyson! At first my modesty prevented my getting on with her quite as fast as I could have wished; in fact, till after my fourth glass of Champagne, I had not gone beyond asking if she liked roast chicken, and saying ‘Bless you,’ when she sneezed; which I have since thought might not be quite etiquette, for she certainly looked surprised. However, ‘in vino jollitas,’ as Cicero says; after imbibing the ‘rosy,’ I went ahead like beans, and I flatter myself—ahem!—made a very considerable impression; but then recollect the expense with which I was got up! the woman who could look on that bang-tail coatee with indifference must be a heartless tigress. At all events, Juliana Georgina (sweet, poetical name! aint it, Tips?) didn’t; and if my mother invites her here during the Christmas holydays—which, betwixt you and me and the post, is not impossible—I should not be surprised if the affair were to assume quite a serious complexion. It is some time since I have experienced what the mounseers call a ‘grande passion.’ When the party generally had pitched into the grub, till the powers of nature wore forced to cry ‘Hold, enough!’ (though, for my part, I don’t think one’s bread-basket does by any means hold enough on such occasions) everybody drank everybody’s health, and everybody returned thanks. My brother-in-law, Coverdale, made a stunning speech, the best that was made, by long odds; though Master Arthur didn’t disgrace his profession in the jawing line either. The governor did the pathetic and paternal; but it was precious slow, and all his jokes old ones. Mr. Crane (he’s a rich old buffer that was nibbling after Ally, but it wasn’t likely she’d have anything to say to him when she’d a chance of taking such a trump-card as my brother-in-law, Coverdale, into her hand) followed in the benevolent and philanthropic line; but he made a regular mull of it, worse than the daddy; and when they’d done making fools of themselves, the sitting broke up, and my brother-in-law and Alice started for the Continent. And the last thing before they were off, Coverdale, while he was waiting in the hall for his wife (women are always too late for everything), tipped me a flimsy to the tune of ten pounds, and told me not to forget I was to come to the Park in the hunting season, and he’d take care to find me a good mount; but if ever there was a real brick, my brother-in-law Coverdale is the identical article, and no mistake. And that this is a full, true, and particular account of this wonderful wedding, sayeth and attesteth,