By the close of November, the Aylesford mansion was restored to all its pristine freshness, and to much of its former vivacity. There were no balls, it is true. But visitors came and went continually, for it was impossible for a family of such consideration to fix their abode in a city so small as the metropolis then was, without all the gentry calling upon them. A whisper of the approaching wedding, which, as we have seen, had got abroad, assisted to stimulate these civilities; for every one wished to be a guest at what, judging from the wealth and position of the bride, could not fail to be an unusually brilliant affair.
CHAPTER XLIX.
MAGGY
I cannot speak, tears so obstruct my words
And choke me with unutterable joy. —Olney.
With goddess-like demeanor forth she went,
Not unattended, for on her as queen
A pomp of winning graces waited still. —Milton.
That what she wills to do or say
Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best. —Milton.
The venerable edifice of Christ Church, the oldest house of worship of its denomination in Philadelphia, still retains the outward appearance it wore five and seventy years ago. But its stately front and exquisite steeple, instead of rising within view of the fashionable quarter of the town, as it did then, now overlooks a wilderness of shops, while its pavement is encumbered on market days with the eggs, chickens, and vegetables of farmers, who chaffer for a cent. The interior of the ancient edifice, however, has undergone great changes, not the least of which is the substitution of comfortable modern sittings for the stiff, high-backed pews in which Lady Washington and the elite of that day used to worship.
The appearance of the Aylesfords in their family pew at Christ Church attracted universal attention. The worthy rector lost no time in paying his respects to them, and was charmed with little Maggy as well as with Kate. He became a frequent visitor. He often seemed lost in thought, as he gazed on the child. At last, when Kate and he were alone together one day, he said,
“I have long wished, my dear young lady, to broach a delicate subject to you. I hope you will not think I wish to interfere impertinently in your family matters; but permit me to ask whether that beautiful child, who has just left the room, is really, as report declares, your cousin.”
“She is,” answered Kate. “But why this question?”
“The daughter of Mistress Margaret Rowan, so called?”