It was determined upon; and Captain Maynard was requested to present himself upon a certain day, at a certain hour, in the church of Saint Mary’s, Kensington.
He came, accompanied by Count Francis Teleky; and there met his bride attended by her maids.
They were not many, for Blanche had expressed a desire to shun ostentation. She only wanted to be wed to the man who had won her heart!
But few as were her bridesmaids, they were among the noblest of the land, each of them bearing a title.
And they were of its loveliest too; every one of them entitled to the appellation of “belle.”
The bridegroom saw them not. Having saluted each with a simple bow, his eyes became bent upon his bride; and there stayed they.
No colours blend more harmoniously than those of the sunbeam and the rose. Over none drapes the bridal veil more becomingly.
Blanche Vernon needed not to blush. She had colour enough without that.
But as her gaze met his, and his voice, like the challenge to some beleaguered citadel, seemed to sound the death-knell of her maiden days, she felt a strange sweet trembling in her heart, while the tint deepened upon her cheeks.
She was but too happy to surrender.