Thy rubies, pearls and diamonds forth, and make
Thyself a constellation of them all.—Donne.
The first of April was a perfect day. The sky was a canopy of deepest, clearest blue. The sun shone in cloudless splendor. The trees in all the parks were in full leaf or blossom. The grass was of that fresh and tender green only to be seen at this season. The spring flowers were all in bloom, with radiance of color and richness of fragrance. Birds were singing rapturously from every bush and branch.
“A lovely day! Just the day for a wedding!” said Nanny Grandiere, as she threw open the shutters of her bedroom window, that looked out upon one of the most beautiful parks of the city.
Her three sisters, who occupied the same double-bedded room with herself, sleeping two in a bed, jumped up and ran across the room to join her.
“Yes, a beautiful day! ‘Blessed is the bride that the sun shines on,’ you know. Oh! I am so glad we all came here!” said Polly.
“And I am glad it is going to be a quiet wedding, with only ourselves. Oh, girls! I should not have wanted to come if they had been going to have a grand wedding, after the manner of these fashionable city people. I should have been scared to death among so many fine strangers. But now it will be real jolly!” said Peggy.
“And Mr. Force says that as there are enough of us we may have a dance, after the bride and groom have gone,” chimed in Sophy.
“‘After the bride and groom have gone!’” echoed Nanny. “That will be ‘Hamlet’ without the Prince of Denmark.”
“Well, it can’t be helped. We must have the dance without them or not at all. You know the ceremony is to be performed at half-past seven, the refreshments served at eight o’clock, and the bride and groom will leave the house at nine to catch the nine-thirty train to Baltimore, where they will stop. To-morrow morning they go on to New York, and the day after that they sail for Liverpool,” exclaimed Sophy.