“The last minute is not far off, dear,” Mrs. Macy now broke in. “It’s a quarter to eight, children. Marjorie and I must go downstairs.” She cast a covertly significant glance at Marjorie who returned it with an equally guarded flash of brown eyes. “You had best form in line, girls, as soon as we are gone so as to be ready on the dot. I’ll leave the door open as we go. Remember, as soon as you hear the first notes of the wedding march you must begin to move forward to the stairs.”
With these final solicitous directions Mrs. Macy went to the door and opened it wide. From below stairs the wedding party now caught the harmonious throb of violins softly entuning an old Italian wedding song. It was a marvelous old song, full of impassioned harmony, which had been one of Laurie’s “finds” during his and Constance’s first year abroad. Virtuoso Stevens was playing it now, accompanied by Uncle John Roland, his foster brother-musician, Charlie Stevens, and four other of the musicians who had helped to form the little orchestra, so dear to the Sanford High School boys and girls of former days. These were the musicians Jerry had chosen to make the music at her wedding.
Mrs. Macy paused for an instant in the open doorway, smiling. Her eyes roved again to the clock, now showing almost ten minutes to eight, then again to Marjorie. The latter, radiantly lovely in a sleeveless evening frock of orchid satin, a great cluster of orchids, brought her by Hal, nestling against one dimpled shoulder, stood near Jerry, head bent a trifle forward, an expression of expectant listening upon her face.
Above the overtones of the violins there suddenly arose the sweetness of a high soprano voice, taking up the ancient wedding song. A hush had already fallen upon the lately buzzing girl company with the first sound of the orchestra music. The stillness deepened as the golden voice sang on, soaring, lark-like to entrancing heights. Then Jerry shattered the spell with an exultant shout of “Connie, Connie! It’s Connie singing! I know it is! Oh, you Marjorie Dean.” She whirled about and pounced joyfully upon Marjorie, catching her by the shoulders and gently shaking her. “You knew she was coming—knew all the time, and never said a word.”
“Hands off. You’ll rumple your veil, and crush my orchids.” Marjorie wriggled free of Jerry’s lightly pinioning hands.
“I’m going to shake Mother next.” Jerry made a laughing dive at her mother. “You’re just as guilty as Marjorie. You knew it, too.”
“We’ll steal one more minute to explain, then we must run. We did not know surely till this morning that Connie and Laurie would be here to the wedding. They managed to catch a fast boat home from Havre, and arrived here only an hour ago—all on account of Jeremiah. We wanted you to have a last Jerry Macy surprise. Dearest pal,” Marjorie’s arms enfolded Jerry, regardless of her own recent admonition of “Hands off!” She kissed Jerry on the lips, saying, “You know all I wish for you,” then released her and scampered for the stairs in Mrs. Macy’s wake.
Silence fell again in the room with Marjorie’s and Mrs. Macy’s exit. Constance had begun the second verse of the song. Presently the glorious voice had ceased with a last high, dulcet note. A sighing breath of appreciation rose from the charmed listeners in Jerry’s room. Still under the spell of the song and the singer, no one spoke. Then, in the midst of the stillness, the orchestra below began the Mendelssohn wedding march, very softly at first with a gradual increase of volume as the march was continued.
Came a quick scurrying into place, accompanied by soft exclamations and subdued laughter, then the bridal procession had formed and begun to move down the hall to the grand stairway.
At the foot of the broad staircase Jerry’s father awaited her. On his arm she continued her little journey of love, attended by her faithful maids. Across the wide reception hall, through a ribboned aisle, which continued on into the salon, and down the middle of the long apartment to its southern end, the bridal procession swept. Its objective was a gorgeous bank of palms and roses in front of which Jerry and Danny were to make their vows. Everywhere in the salon roses were massed in fragrant profusion. The scent of the queenly flower hung over the room like sweet incense.