Such a wedding-dress—one of Worth's most marvelous combinations of white satin and white lace—a dress fit for a queen; and it was trimmed so beautifully with wreaths of orange blossoms. There, in a pretty scented box, lay the bridal veil—such a wonder of lace, so exquisitely worked, large enough to cover a bride, yet so fine and delicate that it could be drawn through a wedding-ring. Then came the wreath of orange blossoms!
Lady Studleigh was accustomed by this time to splendor—there was little in the way of dress that could ever give her the agreeable sensation of surprise; but she uttered a little cry of admiration as she saw the elegant costly presents the countess had arranged for her. Everything was complete and beautiful, even to the little bouquet-holder, made of pure white pearls. She took Lady Linleigh's hands and kissed them.
"Are you pleased, my darling?" she asked, gently.
"Oh, Lady Linleigh, you have left me without words—quite without words! I cannot thank you."
The countess bent her head.
"Could your own mother have pleased you more?" she asked.
"No—a thousand times no!" was the sincere reply.
Then Mattie said: "Lady Linleigh, let us dress Doris in her bridal robes, so that Earle may see her."
And the countess laughed as she gave consent.