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<h2> Chapter LV </h2>
<h3> Marriage Bells </h3>
<p>IN little more than a month after that meeting on the hill—on a rimy
morning in departing November—Adam and Dinah were married.</p>
<p>It was an event much thought of in the village. All Mr. Burge's men had a
holiday, and all Mr. Poyser's, and most of those who had a holiday
appeared in their best clothes at the wedding. I think there was hardly an
inhabitant of Hayslope specially mentioned in this history and still
resident in the parish on this November morning who was not either in
church to see Adam and Dinah married, or near the church door to greet
them as they came forth. Mrs. Irwine and her daughters were waiting at the
churchyard gates in their carriage (for they had a carriage now) to shake
hands with the bride and bridegroom and wish them well; and in the absence
of Miss Lydia Donnithorne at Bath, Mrs. Best, Mr. Mills, and Mr. Craig had
felt it incumbent on them to represent "the family" at the Chase on the
occasion. The churchyard walk was quite lined with familiar faces, many of
them faces that had first looked at Dinah when she preached on the Green.
And no wonder they showed this eager interest on her marriage morning, for
nothing like Dinah and the history which had brought her and Adam Bede
together had been known at Hayslope within the memory of man.</p>
<p>Bessy Cranage, in her neatest cap and frock, was crying, though she did
not exactly know why; for, as her cousin Wiry Ben, who stood near her,
judiciously suggested, Dinah was not going away, and if Bessy was in low
spirits, the best thing for her to do was to follow Dinah's example and
marry an honest fellow who was ready to have her. Next to Bessy, just
within the church door, there were the Poyser children, peeping round the
corner of the pews to get a sight of the mysterious ceremony; Totty's face
wearing an unusual air of anxiety at the idea of seeing cousin Dinah come
back looking rather old, for in Totty's experience no married people were
young.</p>
<p>I envy them all the sight they had when the marriage was fairly ended and
Adam led Dinah out of church. She was not in black this morning, for her
Aunt Poyser would by no means allow such a risk of incurring bad luck, and
had herself made a present of the wedding dress, made all of grey, though
in the usual Quaker form, for on this point Dinah could not give way. So
the lily face looked out with sweet gravity from under a grey Quaker
bonnet, neither smiling nor blushing, but with lips trembling a little
under the weight of solemn feelings. Adam, as he pressed her arm to his
side, walked with his old erectness and his head thrown rather backward as
if to face all the world better. But it was not because he was
particularly proud this morning, as is the wont of bridegrooms, for his
happiness was of a kind that had little reference to men's opinion of it.
There was a tinge of sadness in his deep joy; Dinah knew it, and did not
feel aggrieved.</p>
<p>There were three other couples, following the bride and bridegroom: first,
Martin Poyser, looking as cheery as a bright fire on this rimy morning,
led quiet Mary Burge, the bridesmaid; then came Seth serenely happy, with
Mrs. Poyser on his arm; and last of all Bartle Massey, with Lisbeth—Lisbeth
in a new gown and bonnet, too busy with her pride in her son and her
delight in possessing the one daughter she had desired to devise a single
pretext for complaint.</p>
<p>Bartle Massey had consented to attend the wedding at Adam's earnest
request, under protest against marriage in general and the marriage of a
sensible man in particular. Nevertheless, Mr. Poyser had a joke against
him after the wedding dinner, to the effect that in the vestry he had
given the bride one more kiss than was necessary.</p>
<p>Behind this last couple came Mr. Irwine, glad at heart over this good
morning's work of joining Adam and Dinah. For he had seen Adam in the
worst moments of his sorrow; and what better harvest from that painful
seed-time could there be than this? The love that had brought hope and
comfort in the hour of despair, the love that had found its way to the
dark prison cell and to poor Hetty's darker soul—this strong gentle
love was to be Adam's companion and helper till death.</p>
<p>There was much shaking of hands mingled with "God bless you's" and other
good wishes to the four couples, at the churchyard gate, Mr. Poyser
answering for the rest with unwonted vivacity of tongue, for he had all
the appropriate wedding-day jokes at his command. And the women, he
observed, could never do anything but put finger in eye at a wedding. Even
Mrs. Poyser could not trust herself to speak as the neighbours shook hands
with her, and Lisbeth began to cry in the face of the very first person
who told her she was getting young again.</p>
<p>Mr. Joshua Rann, having a slight touch of rheumatism, did not join in the
ringing of the bells this morning, and, looking on with some contempt at
these informal greetings which required no official co-operation from the
clerk, began to hum in his musical bass, "Oh what a joyful thing it is,"
by way of preluding a little to the effect he intended to produce in the
wedding psalm next Sunday.</p>
<p>"That's a bit of good news to cheer Arthur," said Mr. Irwine to his
mother, as they drove off. "I shall write to him the first thing when we
get home."</p>
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