The bridal of the only daughter of the Comptons was naturally an event of great importance, and consequently of much parade. The bride-elect was in favor of being married in the most approved modern style, having the ceremony performed at ten in the morning, and starting immediately upon a wedding tour. But Colonel and Mrs. Compton had some strong, old-fashioned predilections, and decided to have the time-honored, old style of marriage party in the evening. And accordingly preparations were made upon the grandest scale to do honor to the nuptials of their only child.
Marguerite De Lancie arrived upon the evening previous to the wedding, and was most cordially welcomed by the family. She was carried off immediately by Cornelia to her chamber for a tête-à-tête.
“Well, my little incapable!” Marguerite said, as soon as she was seated, “now tell me about your bridegroom! Long ago, you know, we divided the present generation of men into two classes—monsters and imbeciles; to which does your fiancé belong?”
“You shall see and judge for yourself, Marguerite! To neither, I think!”
“Oh! of course, you think! Well! who are to be your bridesmaids?”
“The Misses Davidge and—yourself, dear Marguerite, since you were so kind as to promise.”
“So weak, you mean! And who are to be groomsmen?”
“Steve and Peyton Rutlidge are to lead out the Davidges.”
“And who is to be my cavalier for the occasion?”
“There! that’s just what I wanted to talk to you about, Marguerite! because you have the privilege of rejecting him as your proposed escort, and I hope you will. I am afraid of him; I always was! I cannot endure him; I never could! I hate him, and I always did! But the colonel proposed him, and papa and mamma would not permit me to object.”