The story went on and on, but Sally heard little of it, for her heart
was suddenly desolate with need of her own mother. Lucky girls who had
mothers to cry for them at their weddings! Her cold fingers gripped
David’s comforting, warm hand spasmodically. Somewhere in the world
there was a woman who was her mother, a woman who had not waited for the
marriage ceremony before succumbing to just such love as that woman’s
unwanted daughter now felt for David.
Understanding and pity for that harassed, shame-stricken girl that her
mother must have been just sixteen years ago gushed suddenly into
Sally’s heart. If David had not been so fine, so tender, so good—she
shivered and clung more tightly to his hand. In a few minutes she would
be his wife and safe, safe from Mrs. Stone, the orphans’ home, the
reformatory.
“I hear Mr. Greer coming in,” Mrs. Greer beamed upon them and bustled
from the room. She returned immediately, a plump hand resting
affectionately on the shoulder of a tall, thin, stooped old man, whose
sweet, bloodless, wrinkled face glowed with a faint radiance of
kindliness and benediction.
“This is little Miss Sally Ford and David Nash, Papa,” Mrs. Greer told
him. “They’ve been waiting patiently for two hours to get married. I’ve
been entertaining them the best I could with some of our very own
romances. I often tell Papa we ought to write stories for the
magazines—”
“Well, well!” The “marrying parson” rubbed his beautiful, thin hands
together and smiled upon Sally and David. “You’re pretty young, aren’t
you? But Mama and I believe in youthful marriages. I was nineteen and
she was seventeen when we took the big step, and we’ve never regretted
it. You have your license, I presume?”
David’s hand shook noticeably as he drew the precious document from his
breast pocket and offered it to the minister. Through old fashioned
gold-rimmed spectacles the minister studied the paper briefly, his lips
twitching slightly with a smile.
“Well, well, Mama,” he glanced over his spectacles at his beaming wife,
“everything seems to be in order. Where is Cora? She’s going to enjoy
this wedding enormously. The more she enjoys it, the more she weeps,” he
explained twinkling at Sally and David. When Mrs. Greer had left the
room, the old minister bent his eyes gravely upon David. “Do you know of
any real reason why you two children should not be married, my boy?”
David flushed but his eyes and voice were steady as he answered: “No
reason at all, sir. We are both orphans, and we love each other.”
Mrs. Greer and her daughter-in-law entered before the old preacher could
ask any further questions, but he seemed to be quite satisfied. Taking a
much-worn, limp leather black book from his pocket, he summoned the pair
to stand before him. Sally tremblingly adjusted the little dark blue
felt hat that fitted closely over the masses of her fine black hair, and
smoothed the crisp folds of her new blue taffeta dress.
“Join right hands,” the minister directed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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