And to the happy bridal came John and Phyllis, and all their handsome
sons and daughters, and never was there a more sweetly, solemn
marriage-feast. For many wise thoughts had come to Elizabeth as her
children grew up at her side, and one of them was a conviction that
marriage is too sacred a thing to be entered into amid laughter and
dancing and thoughtless feasting. "If Jesus was asked to the marriage,
as he was in Cana of Galilee, there would be fewer unhappy marriages,"
she said. So the young bride was sent away with smiles and kisses and
loving joyful wishes, but not in a whirl of dancing and champagne
gayety and noisy selfish merriment.
And the years came and went, and none of them were alike. In one, it
was the marriage of her eldest son, Richard, to Lulu Millard; in
another, the death of a baby girl very dear to her. She had her daily
crosses and her daily blessings, and her daily portion of duties. But
in the main, it may be said, for Richard and Elizabeth Fontaine, that
they had "borne the yoke in their youth," and learned the great lessons
of life, before the days came in which their strength began to fail
them.
The last year of any life may generally be taken as the verdict upon
that life. Elizabeth's was a very happy one. She was one of those women
on whom time lays a consecrating hand.
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