There is always something pathetic in the first wedding in a family,—the first severing of the family circle,—the first break, the first ingathering of new interest. But when there are small means, and seven portionless daughters, very few of whom can be said to be gifted with good looks, a wealthy son-in-law must indeed be regarded as a direct blessing from Providence.
That Mr. Drummond did so regard it, was evident from the jovial good humor that had replaced his usual moody and irritable manner; while his wife’s beaming face, softened by maternal 269 tenderness for the child who would no longer share the daily life with them, was a surprising spectacle to those acquainted with Mrs. Drummond’s ordinary reserve and somewhat severe bearing. But it is not too much to say that on this occasion Mrs. Drummond was a happy woman.
The tide of fortune, long so adverse to their interests, seemed turning in their favor at last. Archie had done great things for himself, and the mother’s eyes rested on him proudly as he performed the marriage ceremony for his young sister, the gravity of his priestly office setting him apart, as it were, for her reverence as well as love. That Isabel had done great things for herself also could not be denied. But there were other causes for content in the mother’s heart.
Both the boys were doing well. Clyde had been articled to a lawyer, an old friend of Mr. Drummond’s, and had won golden opinions from his chief, who pronounced him an intelligent, likely lad, and as sharp as a needle. Fred had lately obtained a clerkship in an old-established house in Leeds, and was also doing well, and his salary was a great boon to the straitened household. Grace, too, was doing her duty vigorously, and no longer vexed her mother’s soul by her drooping looks of uncomplaining discontent,—that silent protest of many, that is so irritating to the home-rule. True, it might be only the quiescence of despair, but at least she veiled it decently under a show of Spartan cheerfulness. The fox of bitterness might gnaw, but she drew the mantle of her pride closer round her. She might suffer and pine, like a caged lark in her narrow cage, but at least no one, not even Archie, and least of all her mother, should guess the extent of her sufferings. So there was peace in Lowder Street. A truce had silently proclaimed itself between the two strong wills of the household; and, touched by a submission that somehow appealed to her generosity, Mrs. Drummond was secretly revolving schemes for her daughter’s future happiness.
“Mothers are mothers,” as Nan had once sweetly said, and Mrs. Drummond was no exception to the rule. She could be hard to her own flesh and blood; she could exact obedience that was difficult to yield, and sacrifices that cost tears in plenty; but she was a just woman, and, when the right time came, she knew how to reward such obedience.
But there was still another drop that filled the maternal cup of content almost to overflowing, and of this she spoke to Grace, as they were together in the mother’s room, folding up the bridal finery. The little bride had just driven off, all tears and smiles. Archie and the boys had started off for a long walk. Mattie was with her sisters in the small ugly enclosure they called a garden; and Grace and her mother had gone up to shake out the satin dress and lay it between tissue-paper.
“I hope she will be happy, poor little dear!” observed Grace, touching tenderly the Brussels-lace veil; for Isabel had 270 been her first pupil and charge. “I do think and believe Ellis is really very fond of her.”
“Without doubt he is. His manners were all your father and I could wish. What a magnificent present, and how thoughtful, his bringing those diamond ear-drops just the last moment! Isabel has such pretty little ears. He is as proud of her as he can be. And really she looked quite lovely. Take care how you fold that veil, Grace. It is a perfect beauty.”
“Yes, mother,” returned Grace, meekly.
She was ready to drop with fatigue, for she had been up since six, and had dressed all her sisters one after another in their pretty bridesmaids’ dresses, Mattie’s skill as a lady’s-maid being distrusted even by Dottie. But Mrs. Drummond was not satisfied, and took the lace out of her hand.