Presently Mrs. West came into the girl’s room with the announcement that everything was ready,—the luncheon table, the salad, the dessert,—everything. Father Damien had come an hour ago and was resting in the library.
“Now, all we are waiting for is the bridegroom and the hour of noon,” laughed Mrs. West, as she took Bess into her motherly arms and held her tightly for a moment.
Bess snuggled close and said, with half a sigh, “Oh—h—little Mother; I half wish he would not come! I am afraid, I dread assuming this awful responsibility!”
“Why—child—how strangely you talk! Surely, you are not in earnest!”
“I have had the strangest feeling in regard to—to my going away ever since I promised to go. I cannot bear to leave you—my home, this happiness, these hills—all—” The girl buried her face against the woman’s neck and burst into tears.
“Bess, dear, no more tears today. Here comes Berenice; don’t let her see!”
But the eyes were not dried quickly enough, for as Berenice came hurrying into the room she exclaimed: “So you’re like all the other brides; they all have to have a weep, I’m told,” and she gave Bess a vigorous shake as she continued: “Cheer up, dearie—for—‘behold, the bridegroom co-om-eth.’” She sang the familiar air in closing her adjuration.
Berenice hastened about, putting on the last few touches, and then quickly made her own toilet.
“How are you impressed with my—‘man’?” asked Bess.