After a few minutes well spent in deploring the fall of her Oxonian, and
gently denouncing his motto, and his century, its ways, and above all
its words, Mrs. Dodd took Julia to her bedroom, and unlocked drawers and
doors in her wardrobe; and straightway Sarah, who was hurriedly flogging
the chairs with a duster, relaxed, and began to work on a cheval-glass
as slowly as if she was drawing Nelson's lions at a thousand pounds
the tail. Mrs. Dodd opened a drawer and took out three pieces of worked
Indian muslin, a little discoloured by hoarding: “There, that must be
bleached and make you some wrappers for the honeymoon, if the weather
is at all fine; and petticoats to match;” next an envelope consisting of
two foolscap sheets tacked: this, carefully undone upon the bed revealed
a Brussels lace flounce and a veil: “It was my own,” said Mrs. Dodd
softly. “I saved it for you; see here is your name written on it
seventeen years ago. I thought 'this dear little toddler will have wings
some day, and then she will leave me.' But now I am almost afraid to
let you wear it; it might bring you misfortune: suppose after years of
wedded love you should be bereaved of----” Mrs. Dodd choked, and Julia's
arms were round her neck in a moment.
“I'll risk it,” cried she impetuously. “If it but makes me as beloved as
you are, I'll wear it, come weal come woe! And then I shall feel it over
me at the altar like my guardian angel's wings, my own sweet, darling
mamma. Oh what an idiot, what a wretch I am, to leave you at all.”
This unfortunate, unexpected burst, interrupted business sadly. Mrs.
Dodd sank down directly on the bed and wept; Julia cried over her, and
Sarah plumped herself down in a chair and blubbered. But wedding flowers
are generally well watered in the private apartments.
Patient Mrs. Dodd soon recovered herself: “This is childish of me. When
I think that there are mothers who see their children go from the house
corpses, not brides, I ought to be ashamed of myself. Come! a l'oeuvre.
Ah, here is something.” And she produced a white China crape shawl. “Oh,
how sweet,” said Julia; “why have you never worn it?”
“Dear me, child, what use would things be to those I love, if I went and
_wore_ them?”
The next article she laid her hand on was a roll of white poplin, and
drew an exclamation from Mrs. Dodd herself: “If I had not forgotten
this, and it is the very thing. Your dear papa bought me this in London,
and I remonstrated with him well for buying me such a delicate thing,
only once wear. I kissed it and put it away, and forgot it. They _say_
if you keep a thing seven years. It _is_ just seven years since he gave
it to me. Really, the dear boy is a witch: this is your wedding dress,
my precious precious.” She unrolled a few yards on the bed to show it;
and asked the gloating Sarah with a great appearance of consideration
whether they were not detaining her from her occupations?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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