implicity was the only
thing connected with the affair which satisfied Mr Brandon, and he
would have been glad to have the marriage entirely private, with no
more witnesses than the law demanded. But to this Mrs Keswick would
not consent. She wanted to have her former friends about her.
Accordingly, the church was pretty well filled with old colonels,
old majors, old generals, and old judges, with their wives and their
sisters, and, in a few cases, their daughters. All the elderly people
in Richmond, who, in the days of their youth, had known the gay
Miss Matty Pettigrew, and the handsome Bob Brandon, felt a certain
rejuvenation of spirit as they went to the wedding of the couple, who
had once been these two.

The old lady looked full of life and vigor, and, despite the
circumstances, Mr Brandon preserved a good deal of his usual manly
deportment. But, when in the course of the marriage service, the
clergyman came to the question in which the bride-groom was asked if
he would have this woman to be his wedded wife, to love and keep her
for the rest of their lives, the answer, "I will," came forth in a
feeble tone, which was not wholly divested of a tinge of despondency.

With the lady it was quite otherwise. When the like question was put
to her, she stepped back, and in a loud, clear voice, exclaimed:
"Not I! Marry that man, there?" she continued in a higher tone, and
pointing her finger at the astounded Mr Brandon. "Not for the world,
sir! Before he was born, his family defrauded and despoiled my people,
and as soon as he took affairs into his own hands, he continued the
villainous law robberies until we are poor, and he is rich; and, not
content with that, he basely wrecks and destroys the plans I had made
for the comfort of my old age, in order that his paltry purposes may
be carried out. After all that, does anybody here suppose that I would
take him for a husband? Marry him! Not I!" And, with these words, the
old lady turned her back on the clergyman, and walked rapidly down the
centre aisle, until she reached the church door. There she stopped,
and turning towards the stupefied assemblage, she snapped her bony
fingers in the air, and exclaimed: "Now, Mr Robert Brandon of
Midbranch, our account is balanced."

She then went out of the door, and took a street car for the train
that would carry her to her home.

THE END.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Late Mrs. Null, by Frank Richard Stockton

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