"Mrs. Digby Southwode will not be a poor girl," he said, with caresses which shewed Rotha how sweet the words were to him.
"But you know our principle," said Rotha. "I had a mind to wear just my travelling dress; but Mrs. Mowbray said you would not like that, and I must be in white."
"I think I would like you to be in white," he said.
_________
And everybody declared that was a pretty wedding; the prettiest, some said, that ever was seen. There were not many indeed to say anything about it; the Busbys were there, and one or two of Rotha's school friends, and one or two of Mrs. Mowbray's family, and two or three of the teachers, who thought a great deal of Rotha. These were gathered in the library, with the clergyman who was to officiate. Then, entering the library from the drawing room, came Rotha, on Mr. Southwode's arm. She was in white to be sure, with soft-flowing draperies; there was not a hard line or a harsh outline about her. The sleeves of her robe opened and fell away at the elbow, and the arms beneath were half covered with the white gloves. Or rather, one of them; for only one glove was on. The other was carried in the left hand which Rotha had providently left bare. Her young friends were a little shocked at such irregularity, and even Mrs. Mowbray was annoyed; but Rotha came in too quietly, calmly, gracefully, not to check every feeling but one of contented admiration. Her cheek was not pale, and her voice did not falter, and her hand did not tremble; nor was there apparently any feeling of self-consciousness whatever to trouble the beautiful dignified calm. It was the calm of intensity however, not of apathy; and one or two persons noticed afterwards that Rotha was trembling.
When congratulations had been spoken and Rotha went to get ready for travelling, the little company thinned off. Her young friends went to help her; then Mrs. Mowbray too slipped away; then Mr. Southwode disappeared; and the rest collected at the front windows to see Rotha go. After which final satisfaction Mrs. Busby and her daughter walked home silently.
"Mamma," said Antoinette when they were alone at home, "didn't you think Rotha would have a handsomer wedding dress? I thought she would have white silk at least, or satin; and she had only a white muslin!"
"India muslin—" said Mrs. Busby rather grim.
"Well, India muslin; and there was a little embroidered vine all round the bottom of it; but what's India muslin?"
"It looks well on a good figure," said Mrs. Busby.