“Then the devil take the goods, the shop, and all,” said he, putting on his hat. “They may look out for another bridesman to-morrow, and so I will tell the young man. I had hoped that in time”—
“They are going to look out for another bridesman in your place,” said the provoking girl, breaking her heart, too, to see him so unhappy. “They went to see one of their friends an hour ago, and I am to have the two sweet girls for my bridesmaids, and you are to have both Jasper Merry and Alfred Gray for your bridesmen; so get yourself ready and”—
“Jenny, dearest Jenny,” said he, approaching her, almost beside himself through hopes and fears, “are you in earnest? am I at last”—and he that had never wept since he left his mother, now covered his face and wept aloud.
“Archy Campbell, I did not think you would be so greatly affected. Oh, how I have underrated every body! what a world we live in, myself the poorest in it. Here is my hand, dear Archy Campbell; it is so long since I gave you my heart that I forget I ever had one.”
One embrace and the lovers parted; she tripped up, frightened to death at what she had done, and he threw his hat to the farthest end of the room in a transport of joy.
So the carriages came to the door, and then first stepped in Mr. and Mrs. Martin Barton, Mrs. Armstrong and Mr. Norton, (they were married that day six months, and I was at the wedding,) and little Betty, who sat down between Martin Barton’s feet. Then, in the second carriage, stepped Rona, Jasper Merry, Ida, and Alfred Gray; then went Archy Campbell—no, I ought rather to say, then went Jenny Hart and Archy Campbell; he felt too deeply to wish for any other person near him at that moment but his own darling, Jenny Hart—let me call her so a little longer;—and, lastly, went the bridesmaids and bridesmen, who rattled away, and were the first to get at the church door to help the party out.
There had been great altercation the morning before as to who should be married first, but Jenny Hart did not conquer this time. They all coaxed and threatened, and at last she had to consent, to save time, she said. “I would not give up now, my dear girls, but I feel as if the poor shop girl”—
“Hold your tongue, Jenny Hart,” said Mrs. Martin Barton, “you are not a poor”—
Martin Barton gave her a push. Then came the dispute as to which of the twins should stand up first, for Mrs. Martin Barton had forgotten which was the oldest; there was only half an hour’s difference, however. Jenny Hart settled that by saying, that, as Jasper Merry was older than Alfred Gray, his bride should take the precedence—and all was settled.
So Jenny Hart, and her manly, handsome lover, Archy Campbell, were married first—and there had like to have been no one else married, there was so much kissing and crying; but the ceremonies proceeded, and the clergyman said he had never married three such lovely couples before. He had five little notes in his hand as the carriages drove off; it was a surprise to the poor clergyman, for each paper contained a hundred dollar note—even Mr. Martin Barton and Mr. Norton made the clergyman a present. But—half a million!