Gifts of every description poured in upon the young couple, for whom their friends seemed unable to do enough to manifest their regard for them.
“Mamma, I have silver and china enough to set up four establishments; what shall I do with it all?” Gladys laughingly remarked, one morning, after the arrival of numerous packages and cases. “While as for jewelry, bric a brac, and ornaments,” she continued, “I shall never have room nor opportunity to display them all.”
“You have been most lavishly remembered, dear,” returned Mrs. Huntress; but she sighed while she smiled over the evidences of her daughter’s popularity, as she thought of the care and responsibility which it would entail upon her in the future.
“It is very, very nice to be remembered by one’s friends, and pleasant to know that one has so many,” Gladys said, thoughtfully taking up a delicate vase, which rude handling would have crushed to atoms, but which she knew represented a large amount of money, “but if they would only give me some simple little token, just to show that they really care for me, I should not feel quite so overwhelmed. Perhaps I am too sensitive and notional, but I think the weight of obligation which is sometimes imposed upon brides is almost frightful, that is, unless they marry—as I am not doing—men who can enable them to indulge in similar extravagance in return later on.”
“There is a good deal of sense in what you say, Gladys,” returned her mother, “but these beautiful and expensive things represent branches of industries, and somebody must purchase them in order that certain classes of artisans may live. It is hard to know where to draw the line in these things. It would not be so questionable, though, if people would be really honest in their gifts and offer only what they could afford, instead of trying to outdo others from a feeling of vanity.”
But, in spite of these practical discussions, there seemed to be no end to the accumulation of wedding gifts up to the last moment.
The wedding-day dawned, a bright, mild winter morning, and every hour was filled with preparations for the important ceremony that was to occur early in the evening.
Geoffrey saw but little of his betrothed that day, for he had many duties to attend to relating to their departure, and last instructions to receive regarding the business he had undertaken. But about two in the afternoon he came home to find Gladys just going to her room, from which she would not come forth again until she was prepared for her marriage.
“I am only just in time, I perceive, to take leave of Miss Gladys Huntress,” he said, smiling fondly upon her, as he drew her into the music-room, and shut the door, for a few moments’ private chat with her.
“You do not look more than sixteen,” he continued, touching the light rings of hair that lay on her forehead, and smoothing the great satiny braid, that had been allowed to hang, like a schoolgirl’s, down her back, until the hair-dresser should come, “and very little as if a few hours would make you somebody’s—wife.”