'It is such a lovely morning!' she exclaimed rapturously. 'Actually Sara is asleep! Fancy sleeping under such circumstances! She and mother are going to have breakfast together in the schoolroom. Do be quick and dress, Ursula; father is always so early, you know.'
Uncle Brian was reading his paper as usual when I entered the study. Miss Gillespie was pouring out coffee. Jill was fidgeting about the room, until her father called her to order, and then she sat down to the table. I do not think any of us enjoyed our breakfast. Uncle Brian certainly looked dull; Jill was too excited to eat; poor Miss Gillespie had tears in her eyes; she poured out tea and coffee with cold shaking hands. 'Lilian Gillespie, from her devoted friend Maurice Compton,' came into my head: no wonder the thought of marriage-bells and bridal finery made her sad. I am afraid I should have shut myself up in my own room, and refused to mingle with the crowd, under these circumstances. I quite understood the feeling of sympathy that made Jill stoop down and kiss the smooth brown hair as she passed the governess's chair: it was a sort of affectionate homage to misfortune patiently borne.
I went up to the schoolroom when breakfast was over. Aunt Philippa looked as though she had not slept: there was a jaded look about her eyes. Sara, on the contrary, looked fresh and smiling; she was just going to put herself in her maid's hands; but she tripped back in her pretty muslin dressing-gown and rose-coloured ribbons to kiss me and ask me to look after Jill's toilet.
'Every one is so busy, and mother and Draper will be attending to me. Do, please, Ursie dear, see that she puts on her bonnet straight.' And of course I promised to do my best.
As it happened, Jill was very tractable and obedient. I think her beautiful bridesmaid's dress rather impressed her. I saw a look of awe in her eyes as she regarded herself, and then she dropped a mocking courtesy to her own image.
'I am Jocelyn to-day, remember that, Ursula. I don't look a bit like Jill. Jocelyn Adelaide Garston, bridesmaid.'
'You look charming, Jill—I mean Jocelyn.'
'Oh, how horrid it sounds from your lips, Ursie! I like my own funny little name best from you. Now come and let me finish you.' And Jill, in spite of her fine dress, would persist in waiting on me. She was very voluble in her expression of admiration when I had finished, but I did not seem to recognise 'Nurse Ursula' in the elegantly-dressed woman that I saw reflected in the pier-glass. 'Fine feathers make fine birds,' I said to myself.
I think we all agreed that Sara looked lovely. Lesbia, who joined us in the drawing-room, contemplated her with tears in her eyes.
'You look like a picture, Sara,' she whispered,—'like a fairy queen,—in all that whiteness.' Sara dimpled and blushed. Of course she knew how pretty she was, and how people liked to look at her; but I am sure she was thinking of Donald, as her eyes rested on her bridal bouquet. Dearly as she loved all this finery and consequence, there was a soft, thoughtful expression in her eyes that was quite new to them, and that I loved to see.