The service begins. Mr. Parnassus has been chosen as best man, and has composed an ode for the occasion. Mr. Oldstone has begged the honour of giving away the bride, which duty he performs with great dignity. A dead silence reigns as the bridegroom places the ring on the chubby finger of his bride. The benediction is given, the register is signed, et c'est une affaire fini. The bridal pair march out of church to the joyous strains of the organ, treading beneath their feet along the aisle the flowers that friendly rustics have strewn across their path. Bride and bridegroom then step into their carriage and drive back to the house of the bride, where a sumptuous wedding breakfast awaits them. Nor were the wedding presents wanting. The members of the club had subscribed, and presented the pair with a handsome punch-bowl and silver ladle with the usual golden guinea inlaid in the scoop. The parents of the bride presented their daughter with a handsome piece of carved oak furniture called a "brideswain," dating back as far as the commonwealth, which contained linen, goblets, and other useful articles.
The old broadbacked farmer, the bride's godfather, who was present, and whom our readers will recollect was the innocent cause of the disasters that followed, in that, in his simplicity, he had put Lord Scampford's bully into possession of the secret of Helen's address, that day at the Royal Academy; well, the bride's godfather and his spouse between them presented the couple with a metal dish and cover, besides a case containing a carving knife, fork, and steel. The bride's aunt, whom we have mentioned as an invalid, sent an expensive old-fashioned china tea service and sundry chimney ornaments, while her friends in humbler circumstances each contributed their little mite.
The breakfast went off merrily. The speeches and the toasts, who shall describe?
At length the hour of parting arrived. The carriage drove up, and the bridal pair entered amid showers of rice and old slippers. Our hero and heroine were about to set out on a continental tour for their honeymoon, and intended visiting the eternal city.
Perhaps the most touching incident of all occurred at the last moment, just as the happy pair were entering their carriage.
Mr. Oldstone, who had been very moist on the occasion, drew off his antique ring, of which we have heard so much, from his forefinger and placed it on that of his protégé, saying with much emotion: "Take it, my son; take it with an old man's blessing. Preserve it as an heirloom, for I shall never wear it more."
"Poor old man!" said our artist with some emotion, when they had left the home of the bride a mile behind. "To think that he should make me this valuable present, and that I hadn't time to thank him at the last. I must write to him on the very first opportunity. Why, Helen, can you guess the value of this gem? I would sooner possess this ring than all the money he has in the world. I never thought he would give it away to anyone during his lifetime. Did you ever hear the legend attached to it?"
"Well, yes; I think I was present when Mr. Oldstone told his story," said Helen; "but I am sure I don't recollect anything about it now. You shall tell it to me over again some other time, darling."
"With pleasure, dearest," replied her husband. "It is a long story, and at present we have so many other things to think of, haven't we, love?"