“Come, my children!” said the doctor, “let us have a gloriously radical marriage ceremony, after our wicked latitudinarian hearts.”
“Oh yes, do, Clara; just to make Susie happy. Here is Edward come for another witness.”
“You know my sentiments on this matter,” said the count, addressing the doctor. “As any one may perform the ceremony, I should choose you from all the world.”
Clara would have postponed further action after the signing of the marriage contract, but there was no resisting the enthusiasm of Susie, the doctor, and Paul. Susie would have them married in the little conservatory, among the flowers. And so it happened. There was no need of orange-blossoms, for the happy lovers stood beneath the two blossom-laden orange-trees, that dropped their fragrant petals on the united hands of Paul and Clara, as the doctor said, in his deep, solemn voice, “Paul von Frauenstein, do you take this woman to be your lawful and wedded wife?” Clara was a thousand times more deeply affected than she had been at her former marriage, when her heart was in rebellion all the time against the “show,” as the doctor called it. She sobbed in the doctor’s arms for some time, and his own eyes were hardly dry. At last he said, handing Clara over to Paul, “I will not comfort your sorrowing wife any more. That is one of your prerogatives, unquestionably.”
“Sorrowing, papa; what a word,” replied Clara, looking divinely beautiful through her tears at her father, and then at Paul. “If this is sorrow, may I never be comforted;” and then, while the rest left the conservatory, she listened to words from Paul, which were far too sweet for repetition.
Susie was wild with delight. She poured out the choice Sauterne, proposed toasts, made everybody reply, and was so gay in her abandon, that her friends scarcely knew her.
In the midst of the hilarity there was heard in the hall the patter of little feet, and the next moment Min, aroused by the unusual noise, opened the door, in her long white gown, looked at the lighted conservatory, and then at the convives, exclaiming with a very grave air:
“What is all this row about? I should like to know.”
“You little ghost!” said the doctor. “Where do you come from?” Min curled herself up in the doctor’s arms, and then directed her attention to the attractions of the table.
“Min, somebody is married to-night—can you guess who?” asked Susie, colloquially if not grammatically.