"I don't know—perhaps if Lord Glenmore intends I should—"
"La, how droll you are; you don't really mean to set out by asking his leave, or consulting him on such trifling subjects as these, my dear child, he, he, he! you are enough to spoil any husband.—Well, good morning—you must correct yourself of such enfantillage—remember what I say. Six months will not have elapsed before you recant all this, and change your present mode of thinking and feeling."
Miss Melcomb smiled, and shook her head in token of dissent. "Good morning," Lady Ellersby repeated, "I have already intruded too much upon your time; I shall be delighted to cultivate your society when you come back a gay bride; and pray tell Lady Melcomb I will not torment her any more just now.—Once again accept my congratulations, and my best compliments to Lord Melcomb, he, he, he!"
It is a strange thing that in the happiest of times there is often a word spoken, or a thing occurs, which seems to interpose a dark spot upon the brightness of happiness, as though we were not to forget the nature of mortal felicity. Lady Ellersby's words, of six months will not elapse ere you have changed your present feelings—sounded in Miss Melcomb's ears long after they had been spoken; and though she strove to drive them from her remembrance, they remained fixed there like a warning which she was not to disregard—a foreboding of evil (for to the happy all change has terror in it). Minor circumstances such as this, have happened to every body in their course through life, and have been like visions which opened a vista to futurity.
The day at length came which was to unite Miss Melcomb with Lord Glenmore, and the various persons invited met at Lord Melcomb's house, from whence their carriages followed in the suite of that of the bride's. The ceremony took place in St. James's Chapel, and it was a beautiful sight to see the bride, with composed bashfulness, in the long white robe and coronal that bound her veiled brows, so fitly emblematic of her own purity, supported by her father to the altar, and given from the paternal arms into those of a husband, who was henceforth to be all the world to her, and whom she acknowledged to be lord of her affections in the seriousness of true and deep attachment, as the chosen of her heart. Her velvet prayer book in one hand—the other folding her veil across her person, which it but partially concealed, she knelt down in that spirit of piety which hallows and sanctifies the vows she was about to take. The previous tremor which had shook her frame as she advanced to the altar, was stilled into composure as she bent the knee, and raised her thoughts to heaven.
Lord Glenmore, too, seemed imbued with the same devout feelings, and all those who came with lighter thoughts, appeared, outwardly at least, impressed.
When the ceremony closed, the now Lady Glenmore knelt before her parents, and as they pressed her to their breast, blessed her with silent fervour; and even the most insensible acknowledged a touch of feeling at this scene. Lady De Chere was heard to say, that she had no idea it would be made such a serious affair of; had she known it, she certainly would not have been present. Congratulations having been offered on every side, some with sincere goodwill, but the greater part with common-place phrase; the marriage party returned to Lady Melcomb's, where a breakfast had been prepared.
"What a mélange of persons!" observed Lady Ellersby, as she stopped in the door-way on entering, in order to reconnoitre. "If I had not been obliged" (she whispered to Lady Tilney), "nothing should have brought me here."
"And I most indubitably should not have come," replied the latter, "had it not been to oblige you; and after all I would have given a great deal that I had not: for I assure you, my dear, as soon as the affair of the day is over, we must none of us be seen here again; what we may do respecting Lord and Lady Glenmore, reste a savoir. But yonder is Lady Baskerville and Lady Tenderden, let us join them, and by keeping as much as possible together, and talking to no one but in our own circle, shew that we are not here even at present on familiar footing." Lady Baskerville was conversing with Lady Tenderden on one of those square Ottomans dos-a-dos, with their several cavaliers by them, Lord Tonnerre, Lord Gascoigne, Lord Boileau, &c.
"Well I am sure," said Lady Baskerville, addressing Lord Boileau, "if I were Lady Glenmore, I should heartily wish all this étiquette de noces was over; when a marriage has taken place, and it is known to all the world, the amusement is ended, and there is nothing to be wished for, but the comfortable arrangement of two sensible persons, who know what it is to live without being a charge to each other."