shortened version of The Wedding Knell by Nathaniel Hawthorne

There is a church in New York which I have regarded with peculiar

interest, on account of a marriage there held, witnessed by my
grandmother as a child. The church was surrounded by the loveliest
green adorned with urns, pillars, obelisks, and other marble monuments.
Since their early engagement, the bride had wedded twice, and the
groom had endured forty years of celibacy. t si!ty"five, #r. $llenwood
was shy, selfish, seldom generous, and always fastidious. His character
anomalies and wild eccentricities made him topic of the day so often,
people searched his lineage for traits of insanity. %ut his caprices
originated from within, and if he were mad, it was the conse&uence, and
not the cause, of an aimless and abortive life.
The widow was as a complete contrast to her third bridegroom, in
everything but age. 'pon breaking off their early engagement, she
married a man twice her age and inherited a fortune after his death.
southern gentleman, younger than herself, succeeded to her hand. They
lived unhappily in (harleston, where she widowed again. No delicacy of
feeling had survived a life such as hers, with the cold duty of her first
marriage, and the unkindness of her southern husband. She was of that
wisest but unloveliest variety of woman, bearing troubles of the heart
with e&uanimity, and dispensing with all that should have been her
happiness. %eing childless, she could not remain beautiful by pro!y, in
the person of a daughter) so she refused to grow old and ugly. Though
this made her more amiable, it also made her even more ridiculous.
*n the wedding"day, the groom was late, and so the bride arrived to an
empty altar. The bridal party came through the door with the effect of a
burst of sunshine. The whole group was made up of youth and glee. s
they walked up the aisle, their steps were as buoyant as if they were in
a ball"room. midst such spectacle, few noticed that, when the bride+s
foot touched the threshold, the bell swung heavily, sending its deepest
knell. second stroke was heard as she entered the body of the church.
,*h heavens- .hat an omen-,, whispered a lady to her lover. He
replied/ ,I believe the bell tolls of its own accord. If you were
approaching the altar, the bell would ring out its merriest peal. %ut for
her, it0s a knell.,
The bride and her company had been too occupied with the bustle of
entrance to hear the first toll. The gorgeous dresses, the crimson velvet
coats, the gold"laced hats, the hoop petticoats, the silk, satin, brocade,
and embroidery, the buckles, and canes made the group appear to be a
bright"colored picture. %ut as the bell stroke again, its sound filled the
church with a visible gloom, obscuring even the bright pageant. The
party wavered and huddled closer together. They were as a bunch of
flowers, shaken by the wind which threatened to scatter the leaves of
the old, brown, withered rose that shared a stalk with two dewy buds "
the widow and her fair young bridesmaids. Still, the bride paced calmly
up the aisle as the bell continued to swing, strike, and vibrate 1 with the
same doleful regularity as when a corpse is on its way to the tomb.
t the altar, the widow said to the clergyman/ ,#any weddings have
been ushered in with merry peals, and turned out unhappily, so I hope
for better fortune,. He replied/ ,It has been the custom of divers nations
to infuse some sadness into their weddings, so as to keep death in mind
while committing to what is life+s chiefest business.,
The silence was broken only by whispers and suppressed titterings. The
widow+s eyes wandered, as if searching for the marble dedicated to her
first spouse) then her eyelids dropped, and her thoughts were drawn to
another grave. Two buried men, calling her to lie down beside them.
The death"bell still tolled mournfully as a hearse conveying a dead man
to the churchyard arrived. Soon, the footsteps of the bridegroom were
heard at the door. The widow clinched the arm of one of her
bridesmaids, whilst whispering/ ,There is a foolish fancy that I cannot
get rid of. I am e!pecting my bridegroom to come into the church, with
my first two husbands for groomsmen-,
,2ook, look, the funeral is here-, screamed the bridesmaid, as the
mourners paced into the church in pairs, dressed head"to"foot in black.
The widow recogni3ed in them long forgotten friends, returning from
their graves to claim her as their companion. She had danced with them
in her youth, and now she feared they would re&uest her hand, so that
they could all unite, in a dance of death.
s the procession approached the altar, a previously concealed form
appeared in its centre. It was the groom in his shroud- His corpse stood
motionless, as he addressed the widow ,come, my bride- The hearse is
ready, the se!ton awaits. 2et us be married) and go to our coffins-,
The widow felt horrified. Her youthful friends stood apart. The whole
scene e!pressed the vain struggle of the vanities of the world, when
opposed to age, infirmity, sorrow, and death. The clergyman broke the
silence saying the ceremony had to be deferred, and asking the groom
to return home.
,Home- Yes, but not without my bride4, replied him. 5You deem this
madness, but which of us has come hither without a wedding garment,
the bridegroom or the bride6,, asked him. He stepped forward and stood
beside her, contrasting the simplicity of his shroud with the glitter of her
dress. None could deny the strength of the moral which he had drawn.
,(ruel- (ruel-,, she accused. ,(ruel6,, repeated he. ,Heaven will 7udge
which of us has been cruel to the other- In youth you deprived me of my
happiness, my hopes, and my aims. fter forty years, when I have built
my tomb, you call me to the altar. t your summons I am here. *ther
husbands have en7oyed your youth, your beauty and your warmth. .hat
is there for me but your decay and death6 nd so i come, in my shroud,
to wed you, as with a burial service, so that we may 7oin our hands and
enter the sepulchre together,, said the groom.
Hearing that, the bride lost her worldliness. She took his hand and cried
,Yes- 2et us wed, even at the door of the sepulchre- #y life is gone in
vanity and emptiness, but, at its end, a true feeling has made me
worthy of you. Time is no more for both of us. 2et us wed for $ternity-,
The groom, in tears, looked deeply into her eyes. ,%eloved of my youth,,
said he, ,it is evening with us now, and we have reali3ed none of our
morning dreams. %ut let us 7oin our hands as lovers who meet again 1
with our earthly affections changed into something as holy as religion.
nd what is Time, to the #arried of $ternity6,
midst the tears of many, the union of two immortal souls. The death"
bell had marked the funeral of earthly hopes, but as the ceremony
proceeded, the organ, as if stirred by sympathy, poured forth an
anthem. .hen the rite finished, cold hand in cold hand, the #arried of
$ternity withdrew, and the organ+s peal of triumph drowned the .edding
8nell.