There was a commotion among the guests and heads were turned toward the door. The captain started forward. I started back. She had entered the room and was standing there, looking about her with smiling interest. I had forgotten that, considering her friendship with Nellie, she was certain to be invited.
She was dressed in a simple, but wonderful, white gown and wore a bunch of lilies of the valley at her bosom. The doorway was decorated with sprays of honeysuckle and green boughs and against this background she made a picture that brought admiring whispers from the people near me. She did not notice me at first and I think I should have escaped by the side door if it had not been for Sim Eldredge. Simeon was just behind me and he darted forward with outstretched hand.
“Why, how d'ye do, Miss Colton!” exclaimed Sim. “You're just in time, ain't ye! Let me get you a chair. Alvin,” to Mr. Baker, who, perspiring beneath the unaccustomed dignity of a starched shirt front, occupied a front seat, “get up and let Miss Colton set down.”
She looked in Sim's direction and saw me, standing beside him. I had no opportunity to avoid her look now, as I had done when we met in the street. She saw me and I could not turn away. I bowed. She did not acknowledge the bow. She looked calmly past me, through me. I saw, or fancied that I saw, astonishment on the faces of those watching us. Captain Jed stepped forward to greet her and I went into the adjoining room, where George was anxiously awaiting me.
“Good land, Ros!” he exclaimed, with a sigh of relief, “I was beginning to be afraid you'd skipped out and left me to go through it all alone. Say something to brace me up, won't you; I'm scared to death. Say,” with a wondering glance at my face, “what's struck YOU? You look more upset than I feel.”
I believe I ordered him not to be an idiot. I know I did not “brace him up” to any extent.
It was a very pretty wedding. At least every one said it was, although they say the same of all weddings, I am told. Personally I was very glad when it was over. Nellie whispered in my ear as I offered her my congratulations, “We owe it all to you, Roscoe.” George said nothing, but the look he gave me as he wrung my hand was significant. For a moment I forgot myself, forgot to be envious of those to whom the door for happiness was not shut. After all I had opened the door for these two, and that was something.
I walked as far as the corner with Lute and Dorinda. Dorinda's eyes were red and her husband commented upon it.
“I thought a weddin' was supposed to be a joyful sort of thing,” he said, disgustedly. “It's usually cal'lated to be. Yet you and the rest of the women folks set and cried through the whole of it. What in time was there to cry about?”
“Oh, I don't know, Luther,” replied Dorinda in, for her, an unusually tolerant tone. “Perhaps it's because we've all been young once and can't forget it.”