'It couldn't have been grander if it had been created out of a pumpkin!' I whispered to Jane.
She looked uneasily at me. 'Do not try to jest, Mary,' she replied anxiously.
'Why not? if I feel equal to it, you foolish person!'
'Are you equal to it, Mary?'
'Quite. If I had doubted it before, I knew when I saw myself in the glass this morning. You ought to be able to see the difference.'
'Yes,' she murmured, 'there is a difference.—You will find the flowers in the carriage, Mary.'
I stepped in, and was swiftly borne away, amidst—I had almost written a flourish of trumpets, so very loud and shrill were some of the voices shouting all sorts of good wishes after me.
I flattered myself that the effect was very telling indeed, when my equipage, with its spirited horses and coachman and footman wearing large breastplates of flowers, drew up before the porch of the pretty little ivy-covered vale church. I was received by the beadle and pew-opener with due respect, and found that I was in very good time. The gentlemen and some of the guests were already in the vestry, said the pew-opener; and in the porch were waiting two pretty young bride's-maids, who eyed me rather curiously. They had just time to remind me that my place was with the guests inside the church, and I to reply that I preferred waiting there, when a carriage of much more modest pretensions than mine drew up, and the two I waited for stepped out.
'Mary, Mary!' ejaculated Lilian, springing towards me with outstretched arms, forgetful, as I even then had the nerve to remind her, of our finery. What would become of me if I gave way now? 'Mary, Mary!'