Not the slightest trace of trepidation was observable in the bride when she alighted from her carriage, when her name was shouted up the staircase, or when all who were within hearing turned to gaze as she entered the crowded saloon, leaning on the arm of the earl. There was something much more like girlish glee than fear in her countenance; for, the truth was, Letitia had a taste for luxury, as all simple-minded persons would have, if their simplicity extended as far as a disregard of the factitious associations by which luxury is converted into an incumbrance. Having been early accustomed to so much of it as to excite the taste, then deprived of it, then baulked and tantalized with the coarse and tinsel imitation of it which had met her during her short professional course, it was with lively pleasure that she now greeted the reality. The whole apparatus of festivity inspired her with instantaneous joy:—the bowers of orange and rose trees, light, warmth and music together, the buzz of voices, and above all the chalked floor,—all these set her spirits dancing. A single glance towards her husband told him enough to have placed him perfectly at ease respecting the affairs of the evening, even if he had been a man who could be otherwise than at his ease. He knew perfectly well that it was impossible for any one of good sense and taste not to admire and respect Letitia, and he cared little under what pretence others might depreciate her accomplishments.
“Lady F—— is the star of the night, as every one is observing,” said an old friend of the earl’s, who was absorbed in watching the dancers, among whom was Letitia. “The brightest star, we all agree, and shining as if in her native sphere.”
“This is her native sphere,” replied the earl. “She is in her own sphere wherever there is grace, wherever there is enjoyment.”
“True: so young, so simple as she appears! She seems perfectly unspoiled.”
“Perfectly. She has gone through too much to be easily spoiled. Change,—anything more than modification—is impossible in her case, do with her what you will. You are an old friend, and I have no objection to let you see that I am proud of Letitia.”
“I am truly glad.... I felt uncertain.... I did not know....”
“Nor I till to-night,” said the earl, smiling. “But I find I have no more wish than right to question my son’s choice.”
“But you must expect the world to criticise it.”
“Certainly. If my son acts so as to imply contempt of conventional marriages, there will be contempt cast on his marriage of love. If both parties carry off their contempt inoffensively, both are welcome to their opinions.”
“Well! there are many here whose parents have had occasion to use your philosophy, or some other to answer the same purpose.”