So the last ceremony was
over. "Siccan a thing as five waddins in ae day was never heard o' in
Flanders before," said the Squire, with a sigh of relief. Of course, the
people ought all to have gone away somewhere, according to all the rules
that govern civilized marriage. Mr. Errol went to his lodgings to pack
up, and took Mr. Douglas with him. As for the rest of the married
people, they simply went on with their ordinary tasks and amusements as
if nothing personal had happened. Before these two gentlemen retired,
however, they had to take part in a dance in the coach-house, at which
old Styles played the fiddle, and the constable called out the figures,
while Mr. Pilgrim groaned in the ears of Mrs. Hill over the worldly
spirit that was sapping the foundations of spiritual life. When the
drawing-room people left the festive coach-house, the ladies divested
themselves of the day's finery, and the gentlemen retired to the office,
where Mr. Errol smoked three pipes and renewed his youth. Dr. MacPhun
told more stories, as did Messrs. Bigglethorpe and Bangs, and at last
they all became so happy, that a deputation of the Squire and the
minister was sent to produce their new relative Coristine, and make him
drink a bumper of champagne to his bride's health.
Pages:
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775