I was up betimes, for we were to be at the church at ten o’clock. I had been sorely exercised about the choice of a wedding dress, as I feared that white would make me look more hideous than usual. But Lady Elizabeth had persuaded me to have a creamy satin, and, somehow, as I surveyed myself in the glass, I was not quite so dissatisfied with the result as I had expected to be. The freckles had found the London atmosphere uncongenial, and had departed, I fervently hoped forever. My complexion too had changed from a muddy hue to a clear dark olive which, though far from being satisfactory, was a considerable improvement on its former condition. My hair, thanks to the skillful treatment of Lady Elizabeth’s maid, had grown much thicker, and looked rather nice than otherwise.

But, in spite of these improvements, I was still an ugly, insignificant-looking slip of a girl, and I lost myself in wonderment at the thought of such great good fortune coming to me. There were to be no bridemaids, only a few personal friends having been invited to church, though there was to be a reception at the house afterward. Belle had at first declared her intention of refusing to accompany us to church. But perhaps the thought that she would, by holding herself aloof, betray to the world at large how deeply chagrined she was, induced her to alter her mind.

Still, when I saw her in the hall, just before we started, I could not account for her unusual appearance. She was positively livid, and shook every now and then in the strangest manner. Both my father and Lady Elizabeth conceived the idea that she must be ill, but she assured them that there was nothing the matter with her.

“But of course one feels a little excited at seeing one’s sister so suddenly raised to splendor,” she said, with a side glance at me which displayed so curious a mixture of fear and hatred that I lost all my good spirits, and was driven to church in an unaccountable state of nervousness and trepidation, which was increased when I saw that the bridegroom and Lord Egreville, who was to officiate as best man, were not here first, according to arrangement.

“I am surprised they are not here yet,” whispered Lady Elizabeth. “Never mind, dear, they are sure to come soon.”

So I thought, too. But for the life of me I could not hinder the tears which came to ease my head and my heart, both of which were in a state of painful tension. By-and-by, I looked up to see Belle’s eyes fixed upon me once more. But what had wrought a change in her again? Her expression was no longer one of fear, but of victory. The hatred was there yet, and that did not surprise me. But how to account for the unmistakable triumph which I had seen manifest itself on her face for a moment?

Like a flash her words recurred to me: “I tell you, it shall not be! I will not have it! Sooner than endure such a humiliation I would—”

Ah! what would she do? What had she done? I asked myself anxiously. Something decisive. Something disastrous to me, I knew, or her face would not have worn that momentary impress of a purpose accomplished. Somehow, through all the weary waiting that followed, my powers of observation and deduction seemed strung to their highest pitch. I noticed that as the moments dragged on without bringing the two gentlemen, Lady Elizabeth and my father grew momentarily more anxious. And I also noticed that Belle no longer looked expectantly toward the door, as every one else kept doing, but that she bore all the appearance of one whose desires were accomplished.

At last, unable to bear the suspense any longer, my father rose from his seat, and, whispering to Lady Elizabeth that he was going to the earl’s temporary town residence, to ascertain the cause of the strange delay, he left the church without further preamble, my acutely attuned ears shortly afterward hearing the rattling of his cab-wheels down the street.

Lady Elizabeth, who sat next to me, put a caressing hand upon my own, and whispered: “Do not look so frightened, child. I do not suppose they will be long in coming now.”