And about Helen’s bridal dress; a very fine one lay in Mrs Oswald’s room, waiting until after the momentous ceremony, because the proud Helen would not accept it now. The banker cast a wondering half-disconsolate glance sometimes at its glossy uncut breadths, and thought it would have been a very appropriate bridal dress, and as much richer than Charlotte Fendie’s as the bride was more graceful; but here, in the little parlour, sat Helen, making the plain, white muslin one which her own means could reach.
“Will you let me help you, Helen?” said Hope.
“No,” answered Helen quickly, “it is nearly finished now—I do not need help—but who is that coming in?”
“Oh, Helen, it’s Miss Insches!” exclaimed Hope, struck with momentary alarm. She almost feared the minister was about to rush in, and carry off the prize after all.
Helen laid her work away, and took some other less likely to excite attention. The minister’s little good-humoured sister came bustling in.
“I hardly expect to be long in Fendie now, Mrs Buchanan,” said Miss Insches, significantly.
But Helen’s mother was resolved not to be curious—she only said “Indeed.”
“Ye see,” said Miss Insches, “it’s no to be expected but what a young man like Robert should think of settling; though I aye tell him it’s his best way to take his time and look weel about him, for a minister’s wife, ye ken, Mrs Buchanan, is no like a common body’s; and when a lad like Robert is well likit in a place, he has great reason to be canny—for a wife that wasna just richt, would spoil a’.”
Mrs Buchanan looked a little piqued—but Helen’s face was lighted up, and she was inclined to be very merry.
“You are quite right, Miss Insches,” said Helen.