The bride, although careworn and middle-aged, possessed a singularly sweet and attractive countenance--all the more attractive that it wore a habitual expression of sadness. It was a sympathetic face, too, because it was the index to a loving, sympathetic, Christian soul, and its ever-varying indications of feeling, lightened and subdued and modified, but never quite removed, the sadness.
The two who composed the remainder of this wedding party were young men, apparently in a higher position of life than the princ.i.p.als. The one was tall and strapping, the other rather small, but remarkably active and handsome. It was evident that they were deeply interested in the ceremony in which they took part, and the smaller of the two appeared to enjoy some humorous reminiscences occasionally, to judge from the expression of his face when his glance chanced to meet that of his tall friend.
As they were leaving the altar, the bridegroom bent down and murmured in a deep soft voice--
"It's like a dream, Martha. It ain't easy to believe that such good luck should come to the likes o' me."
The bride whispered something in reply, which was inaudible to those who followed.
"Yes, Martha, yes," returned the bridegroom; "no doubt it is as you put it. But after all, there's only one of His sayin's that has gone right home to me. I've got it by heart _now_--`I came not to call the righteous, but _sinners_ to repentance.' 'Twould have bin all up with me long ago but for that, Martha."
They reached the door at this point, got into a cab, and drove away.
The remainder of the wedding party left the little church on foot.
The same evening on which this event took place, the strapping young man and the little active youth sat together at the open window of a comfortable though small parlour, enjoying a cup of tea. The view from the window was limited, but it possessed the charm of variety; commanding as it did, a vista of chimney-pots of every shape and form conceivable--many of which were capped with those multiform and hideous contrivances, with which foolish man vainly endeavours to cure smoke.
"Well, Jim," asked the strapping youth, as he gazed pensively on this prospect, "what d'you think of it?"
"What do you refer to, Bob--our view or the wedding?"
"The wedding, of course."
"It's hard to say," replied Jim, musing. "He seemed to be such an unmitigated scoundrel when we first made his acquaintance that it is difficult to believe he is a changed man now."
"By which you mean to insinuate, Jim, that the Gospel is not sufficient for out-and-out blackguards; that it is only powerful enough to deal with such modified scoundrels as you and I were."
"By no means," replied Jim, with a peculiar smile; "but, d'you know, Bloater, I never can feel that we were such desperate villains as you make us out to have been, when we swept the streets together."
"Just listen to him!" exclaimed the Bloater, smiting his knee with his fist, "you can't _feel_!--what have _feelings_ to do with knowledge?
Don't you _know_ that we were fairly and almost hopelessly _in the current_, and that we should probably have been swept off the face of the earth by this time if it had not been for that old gentleman with the bald head and the kindly--"
"There, now, Bloater, don't let us have any more of that, you become positively rabid when you get upon that old gentleman, and you are conceited enough, also, to suppose that all the grat.i.tude in the world has been shovelled into your own bosom. Come, let us return to the point, what do I think of the wedding--well, I think a good deal of it.
There is risk, no doubt, but there is that in everything sublunary. I think, moreover, that the marriage is founded on _true love_. He never would have come to his present condition but for true love to Martha, which, in G.o.d's providence, seems to have been made the means of opening his mind to Martha's _message_, the pith of which message was contained in his last remark on leaving the church. Then, as to Martha, our own knowledge of her would be sufficient to ease our minds as to her wisdom, even if it were not coupled with the reply she made to me when I expressed wonder that she should desire to marry such a man. `Many waters,' she said, `cannot quench love!'"
"Ha! you know something of that yourself," remarked Bob with a smile.
"Something," replied Little Jim, with a sigh.
"Well, don't despond," said the Bloater, laying his hand on Jim's shoulder. "I have reason to know that the obstacles in your way shall soon be removed, because that dear old gentleman with the--"
He was cut short by a loud, gruff shouting in the street below, accompanied by the rattling of wheels and the clatter of horses' hoofs.
"Ah, there they go!" cried Jim, his eyes glistening with enthusiasm as he and his friend leaned out of the window, and strove to gain a glimpse of the street between the forest of chimneys, "driving along, hammer and tongs, neck or nothing, always at it night and day. A blessing on them!"
"Amen," said the Bloater, as he and Jim resumed their seats and listened to the sound of the wheels, voices, and hoofs dying away in the distance.
Reader, we re-echo the sentiment, and close our tale with the remark that there are many rescued men and women in London who shall have cause, as long as life shall last, to pray for a blessing on the overwrought heroes who fill the ranks, and fight the battles of the Red Brigade.