The Strange Proposal (34 page)

“Will you all come in now?” he said pleasantly in quite a grown-up tone, and they responded to the call eagerly.

Inside, they stood about uncertainly in the big living room, thinking how lovely it all looked, with the airy muslin curtains blowing in the fresh sea breeze and gorgeous fall roses in great bowls and vases everywhere, wondering why Mary Elizabeth didn’t give the signal to come to the dining room.

They could see the long table through the archway now, and it looked so festive and inviting.

Then suddenly Mary Elizabeth appeared at the top of the stairs, with her father just behind her. She had changed her dress! She was wearing white! How strange! She must have soiled that pretty blue one! What a pity, it was so becoming! And what was that she was wearing over her hair? A veil? They gasped softly in amazement, those who stood in the hallway and saw her.

At that instant soft strains from the piano began to sound. They turned about and saw Camilla sitting at the old grand piano, playing. Just soft chords at first, blending in delightful harmony.

Then at the far end of the room, the place that strangely had no chairs in it, Jeff Wainwright and John Saxon appeared, and a stranger with them, an elderly man! A stranger! In a frock coat! The family stiffened and prepared to resent the stranger.

Then the music widened and grew stately and became unmistakably the “Wedding March”!

Why, what was this? A wedding? Why, where was Mary Elizabeth, and had that really been a veil over her head?

But Mary Elizabeth was walking into their midst now, on her father’s arm, smiling with happy eyes, looking toward John Saxon, and stepping to the well-known measures of the “Wedding March.” That rare old lace that draped her head and flowed down over her lovely new white frock must be her mother’s wedding veil. Aunt Clarice was studying it through her lorgnette as it passed her, and recognizing it as if she had memorized every flower on it long years ago.

A low, soft exclamation in chorus broke from all their throats, and then they looked up to differentiate the group at the lower end of the room and single out the bridegroom.

John Saxon! Jeffrey Wainwright’s best man!

And Mrs. Saxon was sitting in a deep, comfortable chair just at the side where she could watch the faces of the two beloved children! She had come north to John’s wedding even as she had dreamed! Ah! Was this what had been going on all this quiet summer? And Mary Elizabeth had done this, put this over on them!

“When she might have had that lovely rich Boothby Farwell,” sighed Aunt Clarice into a costly handkerchief.

Then the quiet voice of the elderly stranger broke the silence of wonder.

“Dearly beloved, we are met together to join this man and this woman in the bonds of holy matrimony—”

Sam, standing in the doorway, his hands gripped together behind his white linen back, held his breath, listening to every word, storing it away for the time when some great experience should perhaps come into his life, getting a sudden vision of what it might mean to join two souls in such a bond, remembering how John Saxon had taught him that marriage was meant to be a picture of Christ’s relation to His true Church. Sam’s eyes grew misty with tenderness, big and faraway and serious, and his expression startled his mother as she suddenly turned and saw him standing there! Sam was growing up! She must get at him and teach him how to behave in society, she thought, with a fleeting sense of her social duties, and then she turned back to take in the lovely scene again, to watch Camilla, playing so exquisitely! That was a revelation, too. She never knew that her new daughter-in-law was a musician. Perhaps she wasn’t going to be so bad after all. And Camilla’s mother over there in the corner really looked very smart in that lovely gray chiffon. She must ask her how she managed to keep so slim at her age.

Then it was over with a tender prayer. John had kissed the bride, and Mary Elizabeth was kissing her father, and everybody was stirring happily and milling around, trying to say how surprised they were, and rushing to congratulate the bride and groom.

There was so much merry laughter and talk going on that nobody heard the big, showy car drive around the house and stop before the door. That is, nobody but Sam.

He caught a glimpse of the enemy approaching up the steps and grinned to himself.

“Good night!” he murmured under his breath. “Just too late, as usual! But let him come! He can’t do any damage now.”

And Boothby Farwell, frowning at the sight of the family gathering, walked into the hall without ceremony and was in the midst of the living room, staring grimly about him, before he realized what was going on.

It was Mary Elizabeth who saved the situation.

“Why, Mr. Farwell!” she called cheerfully. “You’ve arrived just in time to congratulate me! How nice! Come over and meet my husband!”

Boothby Farwell, with a baleful glare at the bridegroom, walked over and did the proper thing, but severely, disapprovingly, and then with an offended glance about him, he turned and stalked out of the room.

Only Sam bothered to watch him as he strode down the steps, sprang into his car, and drove furiously away. Sam had to slip out on the porch after that, behind one of the fluted columns, and whistle. Then he heaved a sigh of utter satisfaction and whistled again. All was as it should be to his way of thinking, for the maid of honor had become the bride of John Saxon! What more was there to be desired?

GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL (1865–1947) is known as the pioneer of Christian romance. Grace wrote over one hundred faith-inspired books during her lifetime. When her first husband died, leaving her with two daughters to raise, writing became a way to make a living, but she always recognized storytelling as a way to share her faith in God. She has touched countless lives through the years and continues to touch lives today. Her books feature moving stories, delightful characters, and love in its purest form.