"She shall not be cheated, I promise you."
But apparently his promise amounted to very little, as Mr. Galer went on maturing his plans, inviting young Black to his house, and sending away to Atlanta for Pamela's wedding outfit. His conscience smote him for his duplicity when the girl rapturously thanked him for his goodness; he wondered what she would say when she discovered the trick played upon her.
"Pshaw! she'll be glad enough for it when she comes to her senses. Women are never sane when they fancy they are in love."
Mr. Williamson behaved in the most discreet and admirable manner, showing only the interest of a familiar, elderly friend in Pamela's approaching marriage; but Miss Jane went about in a nervous, half-terrified way that attracted even her brother's attention.
"Any one would suppose that you were to be married, too!" he exclaimed one day.
"Oh, Jabez!" she gasped, and fled from his presence, while he contemptuously muttered: "What idiots women are!"
The morning of the wedding-day dawned at last; and while the dew still hung heavy upon grass and flowers, Pamela declared that she must run over to Roswell for a piece of white ribbon. Mr. Galer frowned a little as he saw her hasten away in a crisp, white gown and a new calash, fair as the morning itself; and he grumblingly wondered why he could not have attended to the errand himself, unwilling to let her leave the place until she was safely married. Mammy Susannah accompanied her, and the two came back in a short time, Pamela flushed and trembling with an inward glow of happiness. She ran to her grandfather and threw her arms about his neck for a moment, the little package of ribbon unrolling itself over his waistcoat; then she embraced and kissed Miss Jane, who seemed no less agitated than she.
A great feast was spread that evening, and the wedding guests poured in until the crowd overflowed from the parlor into the great wide hall. Mr. Galer was a genial host, and even while he braced himself for the inevitable scene with Pamela when Sim failed to appear—and he had arranged with the town marshal that the young man should be detained—he moved about among the guests talking in his most agreeable manner. It was a little early, but the minister had already placed himself in position for the ceremony. Mr. Galer laughed jovially.
"Plenty of time—plenty of time yet," he exclaimed. "Young folks are never prompt;" but even as he spoke silence fell upon the company, as through the doorway and down the room walked Mr. Josiah Williamson. But who was it leaning upon his arm, her gray silk gown rustling softly, her frightened face alternately flushing and paling like a girl's, her meek eyes cast down? Mr. Galer fell back, fumbling for his glasses, doubting the evidence of his natural vision. Could it be—could it be—yes, it was Miss Jane. Then he saw Sim Black standing boldly in the doorway with Pamela at his side, and the sight restored his speech and motion and he strode across the floor to them, just as the minister concluded the brief ceremony uniting the elderly couple, and laid his hand on the girl's shoulder.
"I can at least have my say about this part of the wedding."