Cousin Feenix does that. He has come from Baden-Baden on purpose. 'Confound it,' Cousin Feenix says - good-natured creature, Cousin Feenix - 'when we do get a rich City fellow into the family, let us show him some attention; let us do something for him.' I give this woman to be married to this man,' saith Cousin Feenix therefore. Cousin Feenix, meaning to go in a straight line, but turning off sideways by reason of his wilful legs, gives the wrong woman to be married to this man, at first - to wit, a brides- maid of some condition, distantly connected with the family, and ten years Mrs Skewton's junior - but Mrs Miff, interposing her mortified bonnet, dexterously turns him back, and runs him, as on castors, full at the 'good lady:' whom Cousin Feenix giveth to married to this man accordingly. And will they in the sight of heaven - ? Ay, that they will: Mr Dombey says he will. And what says Edith? She will. So, from that day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do them part, they plight their troth to one another, and are married. In a firm, free hand, the Bride subscribes her name in the register, when they adjourn to the vestry. 'There ain't a many ladies come here,' Mrs Miff says with a curtsey - to look at Mrs Miff, at such a season, is to make her mortified bonnet go down with a dip - writes their names like this good lady!' Mr Sownds the Beadle thinks it is a truly spanking signature, and worthy of the writer - this, however, between himself and conscience.
Florence signs too, but unapplauded, for her hand shakes. All the party sign; Cousin Feenix last; who puts his noble name into a wrong place, and enrols himself as having been born that morning. The Major now salutes the Bride right gallantly, and carries out that branch of military tactics in reference to all the ladies: notwithstanding Mrs Skewton's being extremely hard to kiss, and squeaking shrilly in the sacred edIfice. The example is followed by Cousin. Feenix and even by Mr Dombey. Lastly, Mr Carker, with hIs white teeth glistening, approaches Edith, more as if he meant to bite her, than to taste the sweets that linger on her lips.
There is a glow upon her proud cheek, and a flashing in her eyes, that may be meant to stay him; but it does not, for he salutes her as the rest have done, and wishes her all happiness.
'If wishes,' says he in a low voice, 'are not superfluous, applied to such a union.'
'I thank you, Sir,' she answers, with a curled lip, and a heaving bosom.