Her mother looked up at her searchingly, mistrusting that her daughter had more reason for her pale face and heavy eyes than she knew of.
“If only that marriage last night could have been a real one, I should have been the happiest woman in England this morning,” she said, wistfully.
“With one exception,” Josephine thought, with a bitter sigh and a hard glitter in her eyes; but she said nothing.
They did not leave Sherbrooke House that day, however. A sudden storm came on during the afternoon, too violent to admit of the departure of any one, and Lady Sherbrooke would not allow any of her guests to mention such a thing. And so the long, dreary day was spent in rest and quiet.
But the next day broke bright and pleasant, and just as the company were sitting down to the morning meal, Minnie Shelton came dancing into the breakfast-room, her cheeks glowing, her eyes sparkling, and her lips parted in the brightest of smiles, while a paper fluttered in her small hands.
“Such fun!” she exclaimed, merrily. “Here is a description of your ball, Lady Sherbrooke, in the Cheshire Gazette—the mock marriage and all; and the best of the whole thing is, they have written up that event so that at a first glance any one would naturally suppose that a real wedding had occurred. Listen.”
She held up the paper and read:
“MARRIED.—At the country residence of Lady Sherbrooke, on the 10th instant, Sir Archibald Sherbrooke and Lord Carrol, of Carrolton, to Miss Josephine Richards, formerly of New York, U. S. A., but recently reported to be the heiress presumptive to the Thornton estates in Devonshire. The fair bride was lovely in her bridal robes, not the least noticeable of which was the exquisite point lace vail, which was also of great value.”
“There—isn’t that too rich for anything?” the gay girl cried; “and do look at the mock bride’s blushes!” pointing at Josephine, whose face was crimson from varied emotions; “what a pity it is that our handsome groom is not here to see them; and one would almost imagine she was a real bride by her confusion.”
“Then there follows a long account of the ball, which explains everything,” she added, laying down the paper; “but I’m so out of breath that I can’t read any more, and you’ll have to peruse it for yourselves.”