THE BRIDAL WINE CUP.
(Specially Arranged for this Number.)
Characters and Costumes:--Marion, the bride, young and as pretty as possible, in full bridal costume of white; her husband, a little older and as fine looking as he can be made; her father, a man about fifty, gray, portly and dignified, both in full dress; his wife, some younger, in elaborate toilet of dark silk en traine, hair powdered; three of six bridesmaids--as stage and other circumstances will permit--in one color if possible (dresses of cheese-cloth are very pretty in rose, blue or sea-green--and very cheap) if not, in colors that harmonize; the same number of attendants in evening dress; two maids of honor, about five years old, in white, carrying baskets of flowers; two pages, about eight years old in Lord Fauntleroy costume; clergyman, as spirituelle in appearance as can be had--powder if complexion is dark or florid--should be smooth-faced, wears episcopal gown and carries prayer-book; guests ad lib. in the background and sides in groups.
(First tableau is announced and shown before the reading begins--as the “staging” is elaborate and should be carefully done.)[[1]]
“Pledge with wine, pledge with wine,” cried the young and thoughtless Harvey. “Pledge with wine,” ran through the bridal party.
The beautiful bride grew pale--the decisive hour had come--she pressed her white hands together, and the leaves of her bridal wreath trembled on her pure brow; her breath came quicker, her heart beat wilder. From her childhood she had been most solemnly opposed to the use of all wines and liquors.
“Yes, Marion, lay aside your scruples for this once,” said the judge in a low tone, going towards his daughter, “the company expect it. Do not so seriously infringe upon the rules of etiquette--in your own house act as you please; but in mine, for this once please me.”[[2]]
Every eye was turned towards the bridal pair. Marion’s principles were well known. Harvey had been a convivialist, but of late his friends noticed the change in his manners, the difference in his habits--and to-night they watched him to see, as they sneeringly said, if he was tied down to a woman’s opinion so soon.
Pouring out a brimming beaker, they held it with tempting smiles toward Marion.[[3]] She was very pale, though more composed, and her hand shook not as, smiling back, she gracefully accepted the crystal tempter and raised it to her lips. But scarcely had she done so when every hand was arrested by her piercing exclamation of “Oh, how terrible.” “What is it?” cried one and all, thronging together, for she had slowly carried the glass at arm’s length and was fixedly regarding it as though it were some hideous object.[[4]] “Wait,” she answered, while an inspired light shone from her dark eyes; “wait, and I will tell you. I see,” she added, slowly pointing one jeweled finger at the sparkling ruby liquid, “a sight that beggars all description, and yet listen, I will paint it for you if I can. It is a lovely spot; tall mountains, crowned with verdure, rise in awful sublimity around; a river runs through, and bright flowers grow to the water’s edge. There is a thick warm mist, that the sun seeks vainly to pierce; trees, lofty and beautiful, wave to the airy motion of the birds; but there, a group of Indians gather; they flit to and fro with something like sorrow upon their dark brow; and in their midst lies a manly form, but his cheek how deathly; his eye wild with the fitful fire of fever! One friend stands beside him; nay, I should say, kneels, for he is pillowing that poor head upon his breast.