Re-creations

by Grace Livingston Hill

And so it was, all natural and sweet like an old-fashioned country affair, and not one convention out of a thousand observed in the order and form of things.

For the bride herself had decked the church with the aid of her bridegroom and her brother and Grace Kendall. The lace-like boughs of tall hemlocks drooped back of the altar, and smothered the pulpit; and against it rose a waving field of daisies with grasses softly blending. The little field-flowers were arranged in concealed glass jars of water so that they kept fresh and beautiful, and were so massed that they seemed to be growing there. All about the choir gallery the daisies were massed, a bit of nature transplanted to the quiet temple. Every one exclaimed softly on entering the church at the wonderful effect of the feathery, starry beauty. It was as if a bit of the out-of-door world had crept into the sanctuary to grace the occasion. God’s world and God’s flowers of the field.

There were not many mighty among the guests. A choice few of the Maxwell and Copley connection and friends; the rest were new acquaintances, of all stations in life, all trades and professions, many humble worshippers in the church whom Cornelia and Maxwell had come to respect and love.

The two mothers came in together, and sat down side by side, attended by Harry and his father. Harry had most strenuously objected to being of the wedding party when it was suggested. He said he “couldn’t see making a monkey of himself, all dolled up, going up the church aisle to music.”

Grace Kendall was at the organ, of course, and above the daisy-bordered gallery the Christian Endeavor choir girls all in white, with wreaths of green leaves in their hair, sang the bridal chorus; and from the doors at either side of the front of the church there filed forth the bridesmaids and the ushers. The bridesmaids were led by Louise as maid of honor, with a wreath of daisies among her curls and a garland of daisies trailing down from her left shoulder over the little white organdie that made her look like a young angel. Carey as best man led the ushers, who were four warm friends of Maxwell’s; and on either side of the altar they waited, facing toward the front door as Cornelia and Maxwell came arm in arm up the middle aisle together.

It was all quite natural and simple, though the bridesmaids were disappointed at the lack of display and the utter disregard of convention and precedent.

The minister spoke the service impressively, and added a few words of his own that put the ceremony quite out of the ordinary; and his prayer seemed to bring God quite near among them, as if He had come especially to bless this union of His children. Mother Maxwell’s heart suddenly overflowed with happy tears, and the four bridesmaids glanced furtively and knowingly at one another beneath their garlands of daisies, as if to say, “It is religion, after all; and this is where she got it”; and then they began to listen and to wonder for themselves.

After it was over the bride and the groom turned smilingly and walked back down the aisle, preceded by Louise and Carey, and followed by the bridesmaids and ushers; and everybody rose and smiled, and broke the little hush of breathless attention with a soft murmur of happy approval.

“Such a pretty wedding, so sweet! so dear!” Mother Maxwell could hear them breathing it on every hand as she walked out with Mother Copley.

Then just a chosen few came home to the wedding supper, which had been planned and partly prepared by Cornelia herself; and everybody was talking about the lovely wedding and the quiet, easy way in which everything moved without fuss or hurry or excitement, right and natural and as it all should be when two persons joined hands and walked out together into the new life.