"Never mind her, my dear sir; let her consult her own taste. I am as willing my bride should wear black as anything else; she looks bewitching in anything. Come, fairest lady."
He attempted to draw her arm within his, but she sprang back, and transfixing him with a flashing glance, she hissed:
"No; withered be my arm if it ever rests in yours! Stand aside, Dr. Wiseman; there is pollution in the very touch of your hand."
"You capricious little fairy, why do you hate me so?"
"Hate! Don't flatter yourself I hate you, Dr. Wiseman—I despise you too much for that," she replied, her beautiful lip curling scornfully.
"Exasperating little dare-devil that you are!" he exclaimed, growing white with impotent rage, "take care that I do not make you repent this."
"You hideous old fright! do you dare to threaten now?"
"Yes, and dare to perform, too, if you do not beware. Keep a guard on your tongue, my lady, or you know who will suffer for it."
The fierce retort that hovered on the lip of Gipsy was checked by their entrance into the drawing-room. Such a crowd as was there, drawn together for miles around by the news of this singular marriage. All shrank back and looked at one another, as their eyes fell on the ominous garments of the bride, as she walked in, proudly erect, beside her grim bridegroom.
"Beauty and the Beast!" "Vulcan and Venus!" "May and December!" were the whispers that went round the room as they appeared.