Joseph and His Friend: A Story of PennsylvaniaTaylor, Bayard
General
Joseph and His Friend: A Story of Pennsylvania
Taylor, Bayard
Pennsylvania -- Fiction
"It lacks half an hour," she said; "but you have the usual impatience of
a bridegroom. I am accustomed to it. Mr. Blessing is still in his room;
he has only just commenced arranging his cambric cravat, which is a work
of time. He cannot forget that he was distinguished for an elegant tie
in his youth. Clementina,"—as that young lady entered the room,—"is the
bride completely attired?"
"All but her gloves," replied Clementina, offering three-fourths of her
hand to Joseph. "And she don't know what ear-rings to wear."
"I think we might venture," Mrs. Blessing remarked, "as there seems to
be no rule applicable to the case, to allow Mr. Asten a sight of his
bride. Perhaps his taste might assist her in the choice."
Thereupon she conducted Joseph up stairs, and, after some preliminary
whispering, he was admitted to the room. He and Julia were equally
surprised at the change in each other's appearance: he older, paler,
with a grave and serious bearing; she younger, brighter, rounder,
fresher, and with the loveliest pink flush on her cheeks. The gloss of
her hair rivalled that of the white satin which draped her form and gave
grace to its outlines; her neck and shoulders were slight, but no one
could have justly called them lean; and even the thinness of her lips
was forgotten in the vivid coral of their color, and the nervous life
which hovered about their edges. At that moment she was certainly
beautiful, and a stranger would have supposed her to be young.
She looked into Joseph's face with a smile in which some appearance of
maiden shyness yet lingered. A shrewder bridegroom would have understood
its meaning, and would have said, "How lovely you are!" Joseph, it is
true, experienced a sense of relief, but he knew not why, and could not
for his life have put it into words. His eyes dwelt upon and followed
her, and she seemed to be satisfied with that form of recognition. Mrs.
Blessing inspected the dress with a severe critical eye, pulling out a
fold here and smoothing a bit of lace there, until nothing further could
be detected. Then, the adornment of the victim being completed, she sat
down and wept moderately.
"O ma, try to bear up!" Julia exclaimed, with the very slightest touch
of impatience in her voice; "it is all to come yet."
There was a ring at the door.
"It must be your aunt," said Mrs. Blessing, drying her eyes. "My
sister," she added, turning to Joseph,—Mrs. Woollish, with Mr. Woollish
and their two sons and one daughter. He's in the—the leather trade, so
to speak, which has thrown her into a very different circle; but, as we
have no nearer relations in the city, they will be present at the
ceremony. He is said to be wealthy. I have no means of knowing; but one
would scarcely think so, to judge from his wedding-gift to Julia."
"Ma, why should you mention it?"
"I wish to enlighten Mr. Asten. Six pairs of shoes!—of course all of the
same pattern; and the fashion may change in another year!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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