“I esteem myself most happy in meeting Miss De Lancie,” he said.
Marguerite dropped her eyes, and blushed deeply beneath his fixed, though deferential gaze, curtseyed in silence, received his offered arm and followed the others, who were waiting at the door. The bride and groom brought up the rear. And the party entered the saloon.
The rooms were superbly adorned, brilliantly illuminated, and densely crowded by a splendid company.
The white-gowned bishop stood upon the rug in front of the fireplace, facing the assembly. A space had been left clear before him, upon which the bridal party formed. A hushed silence filled the room; the book was opened; the rites commenced, and in ten minutes after little Nellie Compton was transmogrified into Mrs. Colonel Houston.
When the congratulations were all over, and the bridal party seated, and the little embarrassments attendant upon all these movements well over, the programme for the remainder of the evening proceeded according to all the “rules and regulations in such cases made and provided”—with one memorable exception.
When the bride’s cake (which was quite a miraculous chef-d’œuvre of the confectioner’s art, being made in the form of the temple of Hymen, highly ornate, and containing besides a costly diamond ring, which it was supposed, according to the popular superstition, would indicate the happy finder as the next to be wedded of the party), was cut and served to all the single ladies present, it was soon discovered that none of them had drawn the token. Colonel Compton then declared that the unmarried gentlemen should try their fortune. And when they were all served, Mr. Helmstedt proved to be the fortunate possessor of the costly talisman.
When, with a courtly dignity, he had arrested the storm of badinage that was ready to burst upon him, he deliberately crossed the room to the quarter where the bride and her attendants remained seated, and pausing before Marguerite, said:
“Miss De Lancie, permit me,” and offered the ring.
“Yes, yes, Marguerite! relieve him of it! He cannot wear it himself, you know, and to whom here could he properly offer it but to yourself,” hastily whispered Cornelia.
Miss De Lancie hesitated, but unwilling to draw attention by making a scene out of such an apparent trifle, she smiled, drew off her glove, and held up her hand, saying,