April 5th, 1——
We are home again, and all is bustle and confusion—Aunt Gwendolin is going to be married. She pays no attention to me now at all; and you know, dear diary, how that grieves me. Dressmakers, milliners, caterers, florists, decorators, throng the house. Count de Pensier is staying in a hotel downtown. He calls every forenoon, and every afternoon; and declares, with his hand on his heart, that he cannot return to his own country without his bride.
Cousin Ned has asked me to marry him. He is down in his luck, and blue—missed in his examinations—and he says he believes he might settle down and do something if he were only married. He says the relationship is so far out that there is nothing to hinder him and me from being married.
Get married, indeed! There's nothing farther from my thoughts.
May 25th, 1——
Well the fuss and flurry are all over—they are married, Aunt Gwendolin and Count de Pensier. I cannot do better than copy a paragraph out of the newspaper to describe the doings:
"The church was beautifully decorated with azaleas, palms, orchids; tall white wands supporting sheaves of palms stood at each aisle. The walls of the church were festooned with green wreathing. The bride was given away by her brother, Theodore Morgan, Esq. She looked exceedingly handsome in an exquisite gown of heavy, ivory-white satin, with panel of filet lace, seeded with pearls. The long train was trimmed with lace and pearl seeding. With this was worn a costly lace veil, caught to her Titian hair with a chaplet of orange blossoms, and she carried a shower bouquet of Bridal roses.
"The six bridesmaids were gowned in ivory taffeta silk, wearing picture hats; and each carried an immense bouquet of Bride's-maid's roses."