Read Online The Angel of His Presence by Grace Livingston Hill - Free Book Online
Authors: Grace Livingston Hill
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to the other, and flowers and vines did their bes t to keep up the idea of the de parting summer indoors that night when John Stanley brought home his lovely bride.
It was a strange gathering and a large one. There were present of New York's best society the truest and best of men and women, whose costumes and faces showed that-their purses and their culture were equally deep. And there were many people, poor and plain, in their best clothes, it is true, but so different from the others that one scarcely knew which costume was more out of place, that of the rich or of the poor.
It had been John Stanley's idea, and Margaret had joined in it heartily, this mingling of the different classes to con gratulate them in their new life.
"They will all have to come together in heaven, mother," John had said in answer to Mrs. Stanley's mild protest at inviting Mrs. Cornelius Van Rensselaer together with Joe Andrews and the mill girls from the mission. "That is, if they all get there, and in my opinion Joe Andrews stands as good a chance as Mrs. Van Rensselaer. What is the difference? It will only be a little in their dress. I think all of our friends are too sensible to mind that. Let them wear what they please, and for once let us show them that people can mingle and be friends without caring for the quality of cotton or silk in which each one is wrapped."
The mother smiled and lifted her eye brows a li ttle. She could imagine the dif ference between those mill girls and the New York ladies , and she knew her son could not, but her position was established in the world, and she was coming to the age when these little material things do not so much matter. She was willing that her son should do as he wished. She only said in a lingering protest, "But their grammar, John. You forget how they murder the king's English."
"Never mind, mother," he said, "I shouldn't wonder if we should all have to learn a little heavenly grammar when we get there before we can talk fittingly with the angels."
And so their friends were all invited, and none belonging to the Forest Mission were omitted. Mrs. Ketchum, it is true, was scandalized. She knew how to dress, and she did not lik e to be classed among the "rabble," as she confided to a few of her friends. "However, one never knew what Margaret Manning would do, and of course this was just another of her performances. If John Stanley wasn't sorry before very long that he married that woman of the clouds, she would miss her guess."
She took it upon herself to explain in an undertone to all the guests, whom she con sidered w orthy of the toilet she had pre pared, that these "other people," as she denominated the Forest Hill Mission, pointing to them with her point lace fan with a da inty sweeping gesture, were proté gé s of the bride and groom, and were invited that they might have the pleasure of a glimpse into the well-dressed world, a pleasure probably that none of them had ever had before.
The " ladye of high degree" was there, oh, yes! Her curiosity led her, and her own pique. She wanted to see what kind of a wife John Stanley had married, and she wanted to see if her power over him was really at an end.
The rich elegance of her wonderful gown, ablaze with diamonds and adorned with lace of fabulous price, brushed aside the dainty white of the bride's and threatened to swallow it up out of sight in its own glistening folds.
But the bride, in her filmy white robes, seemed in no wise disturbed, neither did her fair face suffer by contrast with the proud, handsome one. The " ladye of high degree," standing in the shadow studying the sweet bride's face, was forced to admit that there was a superior something in this other woman that she did not understand. She turned to John Stanley, her former admirer, a nd found his eyes resting in un disguised admiration on the lovely face of his wife, and her eyes turned again to the wife and saw her kiss the wrinkled face of an elderly Scotch woman with
It was a strange gathering and a large one. There were present of New York's best society the truest and best of men and women, whose costumes and faces showed that-their purses and their culture were equally deep. And there were many people, poor and plain, in their best clothes, it is true, but so different from the others that one scarcely knew which costume was more out of place, that of the rich or of the poor.
It had been John Stanley's idea, and Margaret had joined in it heartily, this mingling of the different classes to con gratulate them in their new life.
"They will all have to come together in heaven, mother," John had said in answer to Mrs. Stanley's mild protest at inviting Mrs. Cornelius Van Rensselaer together with Joe Andrews and the mill girls from the mission. "That is, if they all get there, and in my opinion Joe Andrews stands as good a chance as Mrs. Van Rensselaer. What is the difference? It will only be a little in their dress. I think all of our friends are too sensible to mind that. Let them wear what they please, and for once let us show them that people can mingle and be friends without caring for the quality of cotton or silk in which each one is wrapped."
The mother smiled and lifted her eye brows a li ttle. She could imagine the dif ference between those mill girls and the New York ladies , and she knew her son could not, but her position was established in the world, and she was coming to the age when these little material things do not so much matter. She was willing that her son should do as he wished. She only said in a lingering protest, "But their grammar, John. You forget how they murder the king's English."
"Never mind, mother," he said, "I shouldn't wonder if we should all have to learn a little heavenly grammar when we get there before we can talk fittingly with the angels."
And so their friends were all invited, and none belonging to the Forest Mission were omitted. Mrs. Ketchum, it is true, was scandalized. She knew how to dress, and she did not lik e to be classed among the "rabble," as she confided to a few of her friends. "However, one never knew what Margaret Manning would do, and of course this was just another of her performances. If John Stanley wasn't sorry before very long that he married that woman of the clouds, she would miss her guess."
She took it upon herself to explain in an undertone to all the guests, whom she con sidered w orthy of the toilet she had pre pared, that these "other people," as she denominated the Forest Hill Mission, pointing to them with her point lace fan with a da inty sweeping gesture, were proté gé s of the bride and groom, and were invited that they might have the pleasure of a glimpse into the well-dressed world, a pleasure probably that none of them had ever had before.
The " ladye of high degree" was there, oh, yes! Her curiosity led her, and her own pique. She wanted to see what kind of a wife John Stanley had married, and she wanted to see if her power over him was really at an end.
The rich elegance of her wonderful gown, ablaze with diamonds and adorned with lace of fabulous price, brushed aside the dainty white of the bride's and threatened to swallow it up out of sight in its own glistening folds.
But the bride, in her filmy white robes, seemed in no wise disturbed, neither did her fair face suffer by contrast with the proud, handsome one. The " ladye of high degree," standing in the shadow studying the sweet bride's face, was forced to admit that there was a superior something in this other woman that she did not understand. She turned to John Stanley, her former admirer, a nd found his eyes resting in un disguised admiration on the lovely face of his wife, and her eyes turned again to the wife and saw her kiss the wrinkled face of an elderly Scotch woman with
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