"Oh, there is no use for unnecessary delay. I spoke to Georgia on the subject, and proposed Tuesday fortnight; but she seems to think that too soon—in fact, was preposterous enough to propose waiting until next year. Of course, I wouldn't listen a moment to any such proposition."
"Of course not," said Miss Jerusha, decidedly, thinking of her brown silk, which she had no notion of waiting for so long.
"Do you think Tuesday fortnight too soon?"
"Gracious, no! I can get the two dressmakers, and have everything ready before that, quite easy."
"Thank you, Miss Jerusha," said Richmond, gratefully; "and as suitable things cannot be obtained here, one of the dressmakers you mention will go with Mrs. Hamm to the city and procure a bridal outfit for my peerless Georgia. Neither shall you, my dear, kind friend, be forgotten; and, believe me, I shall endeavor to reward you for all your kindness to my future bride. And now for my plans. Immediately after we are married we depart for New York, and remain for some time with my mother there. We will return here and remain until the fall, when we will depart for Washington, and there spend the winter. Next year we will probably travel on the Continent, and after that—sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," he said, breaking off into a smile. "And now, if you like, you may call Georgia; we must reason her out of this absurd notion of postponing our marriage. I count upon your help, Miss Jerusha."
So Georgia was called, and came down, looking a great deal more lovely, if less brilliant, in her girlish blushes, and smiles, and shy timidity than she had ever been when arrayed in her haughty pride. And Miss Jerusha attacked and overwhelmed her with a perfect storm of contemptuous speeches at the notion of putting off her marriage, quite sneering at the idea of such a thing, and Richmond looked so pleading that Georgia, half laughing, and half crying, and wholly against her will, was forced, in self-defense, to strike her colors, and surrender. She was so happy now, so deeply, intensely happy, that she shrank from the idea of disturbing it by the bustle and fuss that must come, and she looked forward shrinkingly, almost in terror, to the time when she would be a wife, even though it were his. But the promise was given, and Georgia's promises were never retracted, and so the matter was settled.
That afternoon the stately little housekeeper at Richmond House was told she was to have a mistress. Mrs. Hamm was altogether too well-bred, and too much of a lady, to be surprised at anything in this world; yet, when she heard her young master was going to marry a village girl, a slight, a very slight, smile of contempt was concealed behind her delicate lace-bordered handkerchief, but she quietly bowed, and professed her willingness to start for New York at any moment. And the very next morning, accompanied by the dressmaker Miss Jerusha had spoken of, she took her departure, with orders to spare no expense in procuring the bridal outfit.
Never was there a more restless, eccentric, tormenting bride-elect than Georgia. From being positively wild, she became superlatively wildest, and drove Miss Jerusha and Mr. Wildair daily to the verge of desperation for the next two weeks. She laughed at him, fled from him, refused to take a walk with him or sing to him, and made herself generally so provoking, that Richmond vowed she was wearing him to a skeleton, and threatened awful vengeance at some period fast forthcoming. And Georgia would laugh the shrill elfish laugh of her childhood, and fly up to her room, and lock herself in, and be invisible until he had gone.
Georgia wanted Emily to be her bride-maid, but when Emily heard that the Rev. Mr. Barebones was to officiate on the occasion, she refused. Georgia, who was not particular who performed the ceremony of "enslaving her," as she called it, asked Richmond to allow Father Murray to unite them; but, to her surprise, Richmond's brow darkened, and he positively refused. Georgia was inclined to resent this at first; but then she considered it might arise from conscientious scruples, and though she had none of her own, yet she respected them in others, and so she yielded, and Miss Becky Barebones, a gaunt damsel, whose looks were faintly shadowed forth in her name, gladly consented to "stand up" with her; while a young gentleman from the city, a brother lawyer of Richmond's, was to perform the same office for him.
And so old Father Time, who jogs on unrestingly and never harries for weddings or funerals, kept on his old road, and brought the bridal morning at last. A lovely morning it was—a gorgeous, golden September day, with hills, and river, and valleys all bathed in a golden haze; just the sort of a day our tropical, wild-eyed bride liked.