In a word, George had thrown the great cast. He was going to be
married. Hence his pallor and nervousness--his sleepless night and
agitation in the morning. I have heard people who have gone through
the same thing own to the same emotion. After three or four
ceremonies, you get accustomed to it, no doubt; but the first dip,
everybody allows, is awful.
The bride was dressed in a brown silk pelisse (as Captain Dobbin has
since informed me), and wore a straw bonnet with a pink ribbon; over
the bonnet she had a veil of white Chantilly lace, a gift from Mr.
Joseph Sedley, her brother. Captain Dobbin himself had asked leave to
present her with a gold chain and watch, which she sported on this
occasion; and her mother gave her her diamond brooch--almost the only
trinket which was left to the old lady. As the service went on, Mrs.
Sedley sat and whimpered a great deal in a pew, consoled by the Irish
maid-servant and Mrs. Clapp from the lodgings. Old Sedley would not be
present. Jos acted for his father, giving away the bride, whilst
Captain Dobbin stepped up as groomsman to his friend George.
There was nobody in the church besides the officiating persons and the
small marriage party and their attendants. The two valets sat aloof
superciliously. The rain came rattling down on the windows. In the
intervals of the service you heard it, and the sobbing of old Mrs.
Sedley in the pew. The parson's tones echoed sadly through the empty
walls. Osborne's "I will" was sounded in very deep bass. Emmy's
response came fluttering up to her lips from her heart, but was
scarcely heard by anybody except Captain Dobbin.
When the service was completed, Jos Sedley came forward and kissed his
sister, the bride, for the first time for many months--George's look of
gloom had gone, and he seemed quite proud and radiant. "It's your turn,
William," says he, putting his hand fondly upon Dobbin's shoulder; and
Dobbin went up and touched Amelia on the cheek.
Then they went into the vestry and signed the register. "God bless you,
Old Dobbin," George said, grasping him by the hand, with something very
like moisture glistening in his eyes. William replied only by nodding
his head. His heart was too full to say much.
"Write directly, and come down as soon as you can, you know," Osborne
said. After Mrs. Sedley had taken an hysterical adieu of her daughter,
the pair went off to the carriage. "Get out of the way, you little
devils," George cried to a small crowd of damp urchins, that were
hanging about the chapel-door. The rain drove into the bride and
bridegroom's faces as they passed to the chariot. The postilions'
favours draggled on their dripping jackets. The few children made a
dismal cheer, as the carriage, splashing mud, drove away.