The doctor stole a sprig of rose geranium out of Betty's last bouquet, and went away, looking as if he had found something even sweeter than that in the dingy room where his patient lay.
Next day Miss Helen had fresh violets in the vase on her table, and fresh roses blooming on her cheeks. Dr. Strong advised her not to visit Betty, as there was fever in the neighborhood, but kindly called every day or two, to let Helen know how her little friend was getting on.
After one of these calls, the doctor went away, saying to himself, with an air of tender pride and satisfaction,—
"I was mistaken, and judged too hastily last year. Helen is not what I thought her, a frivolous, fashionable beauty, but a sweet, sensible girl, who is tired of that empty life, and quietly tries to make it beautiful and useful in the best and truest way. I hope I read the blue eyes right; and I think I may venture to say now what I dared not say last year."
After that same visit, Helen sat thinking to herself, with a face full of happiness and humility,—"He finds me improved, so I have not waited in vain, and I believe that I shall not be disappointed after all."
It is evident that the doctor did venture, and that Helen was not disappointed; for, on the first day of June, Betty and her mother, all in their best, went to a certain church, and were shown to the best seat in the gallery, where several other humble friends were gathered to see their dear Miss Helen married.
Betty was in high feather, with a pink dress, blue sack, yellow ribbons in her hat, and lighted up the seat like an animated rainbow. Full of delight and importance, was Miss Betty, for she had been in the midst of the festive preparations, and told glowing tales to her interested listeners, while they waited for the bride.
When the music sounded, Betty held her breath, and rolled up her eyes in a pious rapture. When a general stir announced the grand arrival, she leaned so far over the gallery, that she would have gone head first if her mother had not caught her striped legs, and when the misty, white figure passed up the aisle, Betty audibly remarked,—
"If she had wings she'd look like an out-and-out angel, wouldn't she, mammy?"
She sat like a little ebony statue all through the service; but she had something on her mind, and the moment the bridal couple turned to go out, Betty was off, scrambling down stairs, dodging under people's arms, hopping over ladies' skirts, and steadily making her way to the carriage waiting for the happy pair.