Over a month had passed since that memorable October evening when Tom Gray, looking but a shadow of his formerly robust self, had set foot on the platform of the Oakdale station to receive the fervent welcome of those whose lives and interests were centered in his own. As his arrival had been kept a secret, few by-standers were at the station when he arrived. After the first rush of greeting had spent itself, he was affectionately conducted to Mrs. Gray's limousine with herself, the Wingates, Grace, David and Jean as a bodyguard. Though still weak, three days of rest had done much for him. Whatever he still lacked in mere physical strength, he was the same buoyant, cheerful Tom, with only a slight limp in his walk, and a touch of haunting wistfulness in his gray eyes as a reminder of his terrible experience.
At home once more and surrounded by every luxury and with every consideration that those who loved him could offer, health came back with a rush. His rugged constitution had stood him in good stead during those dark days in the sequestered hut, and by the first of November he was quite himself again.
During the days of his rapid convalescence, the earlier-interrupted wedding plans went steadily forward. The bitterness of loss had doubly endeared Grace and Tom to each other. Out of the ashes of suffering, affection had put forth a new growth which to them seemed completely to dwarf their love of previous days. In proportion to the sorrow which had been hers when she wrote to her comrades regarding the postponement of her marriage was the supreme joy she experienced in writing them of Tom's return. With Tom at home and entirely well again, she felt that she could this time defy fate in setting her wedding day for the sixteenth of November.
And now the day had dawned, perfect in its autumnal beauty. Though the trees were bare of leaves, the Oakdale gardens and lawns still flaunted a few late-blooming, rich-hued chrysanthemums. Perhaps it was because of the dark season of suspense through which she and Tom had passed that Grace declared herself for the cheerful daintiness of a pink and white wedding. In contradistinction to the weddings of her chums, who with the exception of Miriam Nesbit had each been accompanied to the altar by a bevy of bridesmaids, Grace announced that she wished the services of only a maid of honor and two flower girls. Nor did any one complain when her choice of bridal attendant fell upon J. Elfreda Briggs. As for the latter, she was in the seventh heaven of delight and wondered humbly how it had all happened. Anna May and Elizabeth Angerell felt equally proud and delighted to have been chosen by dear Miss Harlowe as flower girls.
As the greater part of the townspeople of Oakdale were desirous of seeing Grace Harlowe and Tom Gray married, Grace rather reluctantly decided in favor of a church wedding. Privately she would have preferred being married in her own home, but this she kept strictly to herself. There was also another secret which she and Tom sedulously guarded. It related to where they intended to go on their honeymoon. Only Mr. and Mrs. Harlowe and Mrs. Gray had shared their confidence regarding their purposed destination, and their elders proved themselves to be good secret-keepers. Withholding this bit of information was in the nature of a whim on Grace's part, and though she and Tom were daily besieged with questions by their friends, no one had any serious thought of spoiling Grace's little surprise by endeavoring to pry it from her smiling lips.
Apart from the Six Originals and her many intimate Oakdale friends of school and later days, countless others gathered from far and near to be on hand for the great day. The Semper Fidelis girls had journeyed to Oakdale to a member. Judge Putnam and his sister, Mrs. Gibson, Mrs. Allison and Mabel, Arnold Evans, the Southards, Eleanor Savelli, her father and her aunt, Miss Nevin, had all congregated to do her honor. Even Professor Morton and Miss Wilder were among those present. Mrs. Gray insisted on making herself responsible for the appearance of the Harlowe House girls, who received special permission from Professor Morton to attend the great event in a body.
Kathleen West, Laura Atkins, Mabel Ashe and Patience Eliot came to the wedding, as did Madge Morton and the Meadow-brook Girls. In fact, Oakdale had the air of a town holding a convention, and it would not have been surprising to many had the streets of the little city suddenly burst forth in gay decorations. As for wedding gifts, their name was legion, and Grace laughingly declared herself to be hopelessly embarrassed by the number of beautiful and costly offerings which poured in upon her.
Perhaps she was most deeply touched, however, by the arrival of a wonderful set of martin furs, sent her by Jean. The old hunter occupied a front seat in the church, at Tom's and Grace's earnest request, his rugged face glowing with proud happiness as he watched the two young people united in marriage. The ceremony over, Tom's first act after saluting his bride, embracing his aunt and newly acquired mother-in-law and grasping the hand of Mr. Harlowe, was to beckon Jean to him. "You come next, Jean. You gave me my happiness," were words which the old hunter treasured to the end of his life.
"For once I hav' the honor to salut' Mam'selle Grace," smiled the old man as he gripped Tom's hand. Then he kissed the radiant girl lightly on both cheeks, after the fashion of his nation. To him she would always be Mam'selle Grace.
Due to the flood of congratulations which constantly poured in upon the newly-weds, it was some time before they left the church to enter a waiting automobile which was to convey them to the Harlowes' home.