Mother, father and Clara passed him where he stood, leaving the place for Louis and myself before him, with Hal and Mary, Ben and Aunt Hildy at Louis’ left.  It was a short and beautifully-worded ceremony, and when my eyes, already moist, looked upward to the pulpit and noticed a drapery of rose and vine which encircled it, those same tears fell fast over my cheeks, and while Louis’ “I will” fell as a clear and strong response upon the air, my own assent was given silently and with only a slight bowing of my head, my lips murmuring not a syllable.  After pronouncing us man and wife, Mr. Davis, at Louis’ request, gave an invitation to all our friends to call on us the following evening, and again the choir and the people sang sweetly and with great feeling, as, turning, we passed down the opposite aisle toward the door.

When about half way to the door I was conscious of seeing Aunt Peg and Matthias; a moment more, and she with her white apron, and he with his high hat full of roses, were walking before us and throwing them in our path.

When we reached the door they stepped to either side, and still throwing roses, Matthias said in a tone I shall never forget: 

“May de days do for ye jes’ what we’s doin’ now, scatter de roses right afore ye clear to de end ob de journey.”

This touched our hearts, and when we got into the carryall all eyes were moist, and I of course was crying as if my best friend were dead.  Aunt Hildy said: 

“Lord-a-massy! wonder he hadn’t hit us in the head; that’s the queerest caper I ever did see.”

We all laughed heartily, and Louis said: 

“My Emily, you are a rainbow of promise; the sun shines through your tears.”

We had made preparations to receive our friends Monday evening, and had huge loaves of cake awaiting with lemonade, and something warm for those who desired it.  An ancient service of rare and unique design was brought out by Clara for the occasion.  It belonged to her husband’s family in France and came to him as an heirloom.  The contrast between it and the mulberry set which mother gave me struck me as singular, but the flowers and figures of the mulberry ware did not fall into insignificance.  They were to me the embodiment of beauty.  Among my earliest disappointments was the giving of grandmother’s china to Hal, and I cried for “just one saucer,” and this was a fac-simile and met a hearty appreciation.  I bedewed it with tears, and Aunt Hildy said it was dretful dangerous to give me anything, and she should’nt try it.

“You’ll want two or three handkerchiefs to cry on to-night, for the folks’ll bring over a lot o’ things to you.”

“I do not expect a single present, neither desire any if I have to make a speech,” I said.

“Keep close to me, Emily,” said Louis, “and I will make the speeches if it becomes a duty.”

I feared Clara would get tired out, but she said: 

“Oh, no, they will come early, you know, and go away early also, and with you and Louis to hold me up I shall be borne on wings!”