“So it does, grandsir,” answered his daughter-in-law meekly, after a moment of silence; “and I wont wear this elegant dress, but will put on my brown paduasoy; that was always thought good enough for me.” Showing that she had the requisite ornament, and that the Scripture he quoted was not applicable to her.
“No, no child,” he replied quickly; “that would be disrespectful to your husband. I suppose you will be expected to have some worthy adornments, and I must say you become the dress.”
“That she does,” added his son, forgetting the old gentleman’s exordium in his conclusion, “and I don’t believe there will be a more personable woman there than Captain Robert Stimpson’s wife.”
“Oh, Mr. Stimpson,” said his wife, with recovered spirits, “do remember to shut up Trip; if you don’t he’ll follow us to the wedding; and if I was to see him in that room I do believe I should be mortified to pieces.”
The evening at length arrived, and the company assembled in Madam Brinley’s parlor, which was used on this occasion for the reception-room. This was a fine room in the fashion of the day, and so lofty that a reasonably tall man might walk across it with his hat on, without fear of having it knocked off by the large beam which crossed the centre of the ceiling. A rich Turkey carpet, betokening very high style in those days of sanded floors, formed the centre-piece of the room. High-backed leather-seated chairs, thickly studded with brass nails, stood stiffly against the walls. The fireplace, ornamented with Dutch tiles, was furnished with andirons of polished steel; and the shovel and tongs of the same metal, seemed, as the merry blaze danced on their bright surfaces, to cast significant glances at each other across the hearth. A large mantel-glass surmounted the fireplace, on each side of which hung in rich black and gold frames, the respective arms of the Brinley and Borland families, the lady of the house belonging to the latter. A large pier-glass hung between the two front windows, in which each lady might survey her goodly person, and compare it with that of her neighbor; beneath this was a slab of gray marble, with highly ornamented iron supporters fastened into the wall. A tall, oaken desk and book-case stood in one corner of the room, opposite to which, a round snap-table of black mahogany, with claw feet, displayed its disc turned down, of so remarkable a polish, that little Trip—who, notwithstanding all his master’s care in shutting him up at home, had managed to escape from his confinement, and had followed his mistress into the room unperceived—on seeing his image so truly reflected, ran up to it with great glee, sniffing and wagging his tail, delighted at having found, as he supposed, a comrade of his own species to bear him out in his audacity. Mrs. Stimpson turned all manner of colors, and cast many imploring looks at her husband, who pretended to be wholly absorbed in the contemplation of a fire-screen which stood near. On a servant’s attempting to drive Trip out, he set up a shrill bark, and ran on his little bow-legs, with his feet turned out, to his mistress for protection; jumped into her lap—on her very pink lustring petticoat—and, putting his black paws on her shoulders, began whining and licking her face with great affection. On seeing which, John Fayerweather took his little four-footed acquaintance in his arms, and put him in a place of safety; while Captain Stimpson electrified the company by a more than usually sonorous h-m-gh.
Madam Brinley in crimson velvet, and looking finely, occupied a large arm-chair, curiously carved, on one side the fireplace. Madam Fayerweather, in a beautiful white-grounded brocade, and looking as if she was wishing every body joy, was on her right. Next to her sat Mrs. Wendell, plainly, though handsomely dressed. She could boast of but little beauty, excepting a pair of fine eyes, beaming with intellect and benevolence; her wit and fine sense, however, rendered her the centre of attraction at every party.
Mrs. Stimpson had the honor of sitting next Madam Brinley on the left, her husband as near her as possible, as if for mutual protection. The other guests stationed themselves with great exactness, according to their rank and affinity to the hostess.
The bridal party entered. The bride, a sparkling brunette, with an exquisite figure, was arrayed in a sack of white brocade, embroidered with large silver-flowers; a necklace of oriental pearl encircled her throat, and pendants of the same hung from her ears. Her hair combed back from her beautiful forehead, was turned over a cushion on the top of her head, where it was confined by a diamond bodkin, falling from the back of her head in glossy ringlets, whose jetty hue contrasted finely with her white neck. Altogether she was as fair a bride as one would wish to see.
The bridegroom, a handsome man of two and thirty, appeared to be fully sensible of his importance, at the same time to be sufficiently enamored of his bride, and to applaud himself on the taste he had displayed in his choice. The fair bridemaids “looked sweetly” in their buff-colored satins, with aprons of Brussels’ lace, and triple ruffle cuffs of the same. The groomsmen were Mr. Lindsey, a gay young Englishman, and George Fayerweather. The latter, from his stature and noble proportions, was the most conspicuous figure in the assemblage; towering over every other by at least three inches. He was in a coat of light-blue, with under-garments of white silk. His countenance was an expansion of all the good-humor and happiness of his mother’s, with a dash of fun and frolic, under which might be detected traces of thought and deep feeling. John, “a pale, intellectual-looking student,” was too reserved and diffident to become an actor in the scene, but sat retired, and observed every thing going on in quiet enjoyment, admiring Judith nearly as much as his brother.
The solemn ceremony, which was very impressively performed by Mr. McGregor, being over and the cake cut and distributed, arrangements were made by the master-of-ceremonies, Mr. Wendell, for the ball. The door being thrown open, the company were ushered into the dancing-room, brilliantly lighted up for the occasion. After a short pause, Mr. Wendell called upon the governor to lead out the bride for the opening minuet, which was danced in a very gubernatorial and bridal manner. The bridegroom and Madam Brinley followed, and then Judge Wentworth of Boston and Madam Fayerweather, who was still celebrated for her minuet. Her husband never danced, and Mr. Wendell then called out Captain Fayerweather and Miss Stimpson, though scarcely expecting that Judith would be prevailed upon to dance.