“Did you feed my horses?” Merian asked, the final time Solomon Darson held his hand out to him, as if he were the stable boy instead of the bride’s father.

Darson knew better than begrudge such an ancient soul, but he could not help feeling abused and thought again of the high price Magnus had set for the marriage contract, which is perhaps why he did not stop his sons later that morning.

Promptly at eleven of the clock Libbie came into the hall, glorious and radiant in her wedding dress, and Caleum took his place beside her. When the minister, who suffered from religious melancholy and was extremely dour, asked ceremonially whether any protested the union, Eli Darson and his brother, George, both stood to speak.

Mr. Darson was embarrassed that they might already be drunk and anxious of what mischief they were up to, especially in the instant he looked at his daughter and saw the mortification on her face. Still, he did nothing to intervene.

“On what grounds do you object?” the minister asked them impatiently, as the time for such matters was during the engagement period.

When the preacher asked this, everyone, including George and Eli themselves, could see the childishness of what they had done, for they had no serious grounds but only a general dislike of the groom. Both of them jogged nervously from foot to foot, trying to think of something to redeem themselves, as the guests waited with horror upon their faces.

“If there is no objection,” the minister then went on, seeing it was only boys being churlish.

“On grounds,” Eli Darson spat out at last, “that neither his religion nor his origin is generally known.”

The preacher was very annoyed at their shenanigans, but when Eli said the groom’s religion was not known he paused amid the babble that had overtaken the room to ask Caleum whether he was Christian and had renounced Satan and all his works.

Caleum answered in the affirmative, as Magnus shot daggers from his eyes at Mr. Darson and Libbie began crying. Everyone present was made exceptionally uncomfortable and thought the Darson boys either nefarious or simple. Having started, though, they refused to give up. “Ask him about his father,” George said, grown bold with foolishness. “He is not decent people.”

“Why not ask him yourself?” a man’s voice asked from back of the room, after the Darson boy had finished his speech.

When the couple and their guests turned around to see who had spoken, all in the house went quiet.

A formidably tall man stood up then, his head nearly scraping the ceiling where its wooden beams met the wall. He was wearing a blue brocade vest, silken breeches of a mauve color, and a black waistcoat, also of silk. A starched white shirt and embroidered cravat were visible on his upper body, embroidered stockings on his legs, and all was topped with a three-cocked camel’s-hair hat, which was the first of its fashion ever to be seen in Berkeley. His light eyes seemed to dance, though his face was otherwise filled with a gravity and character that comes only from ceaseless care, or thought and study of human nature at close range. His hair was gone stark white, and he was considerably older than when last they knew him, but everyone could tell, not only from his face and his words but even from the feeling that emanated from his person, that it was Purchase Merian.

How he had gone unnoticed until then none could say, though most who had not seen him for ages were greatly pleased to do so again. Others, who had only heard his legend, were excited to put flesh to lore. Still others bore him grudges decades old. The two Darson boys, though, when they saw the man standing in the back of the room, both found the seats nearest to them and sat themselves down, deciding there was no need of pressing further, such was his natural presence and authority.

At the altar, Caleum felt pulled toward the stranger from the moment that he spoke, but averted his eyes, and returned them to his bride. He nodded for the preacher to carry on with the ceremony. The minister looked at Magnus, who gave his assent as well, and began to read the marriage oath.

After they had at last sworn themselves to each other, and the ceremony was successfully concluded, Purchase strode to the front of the room where the marriage party was standing. When he reached the front row he stopped first to approach his father and kissed the old man warmly, not having known before whether he was alive or dead. Jasper looked up at him, and when he spoke it was the first time he had recognized anybody in a very long time, saying only, “Purchase.”

“Yes, Papa. It’s me.”

“You were on time,” Merian said.

“I suppose,” Purchase answered him. “You could argue it both ways.”

When he greeted Magnus, the two gave each other a hug of great fraternal affection, old enough to know and rejoice that many paths in life are crossed again.

Magnus next introduced his wife, Adelia, whom Purchase knew from when she worked at Stonehouses, and they were happy to be reacquainted as well.

The next person he greeted was Libbie, who found him charming as women invariably did, even though he was old enough to be her father and, by law, now in fact was.

He came then to Caleum. Upon his first approach Caleum held himself back, refusing to look directly at his father. When he did, he felt a huge pressure against his chest and forehead that made it feel as if he were about to come out of his skin. He did not recognize the man from the image he carried in his memory’s eye, but he knew him for who he was with an instinct beneath the illumination of words. He knew the two of them were part of a single whole, however reluctantly. His emotions then were divided, but he held out his hand formally when at last he responded to Purchase’s greeting. “Father.”

The man was sensitive not to cause the boy any further discomfort and held out his own hand in turn, neither drawing any nearer in familiarity nor pulling away from offended feelings. “Congratulations,” he said solemnly. “May you two know nothing together but shared happiness.”

Before Caleum could reply Purchase pulled from his coat a leather satchel, which he handed to the bridegroom. Everyone standing around pressed close to see what it contained. Mr. Darson leaned especially hard against his son-in-law’s shoulder while Caleum thanked his father and opened the parcel. Inside the worn pouch was a multitude of golden coins, shaped larger than any he was used to seeing. Upon closer inspection he saw that one side of each seemed very familiar, though he could not tell exactly why, while the other side bore the image of a young couple on their wedding day, who were uncannily similar to himself and Libbie.

Mr. Darson, when he saw the coins, tried to calculate what each was worth and exactly how many the purse contained, but even without an exact number he felt vindicated, as he could tell at a glance it was far more than the price Magnus had demanded from him.

Had they merely been gold coins, Caleum might have returned them as a bribe against his affections, but these bore all the beauty and artistry that had won Purchase Merian unrivaled fame — even before the notoriety of his affair with Mary Josepha — and it was impossible for him not to feel moved. He could see immediately they had been crafted for him and his bride, and that the tale they told had been with his father for a long time indeed, though he knew not how. More ancient perhaps than he himself was. Certainly, though, it was very old.

Caleum closed the purse and gave it to Magnus for safekeeping, as he and Libbie adjourned to the lawn for the wedding feast, where they presided over the banquet table. Family and friends came then to lavish gifts on them throughout the afternoon, but none more impressive or valuable than Purchase’s.

After eating, the slave Julius led the celebration by pulling out his panpipes and beginning a serenade of the wedding couple. Other musicians joined with him to create a ravishing improvised song of love for the newlyweds. There was also much dancing and playing of cards, as everyone celebrated the new union.