before, the memory of which brought no sadness, but a perpetual joy.
Sorrow had no power over a love and faith like hers;—it was only the heavenly dew-drop to quicken their celestial growth. In witnessing her daughter's bridal, she lived over again her young days without a regret to dim their radiance. Her passion for orange-bloom was not abated, and as it had presided at her own marriage festival, she wished it also to grace Rosalind's. She had then three trees laden with blossoms whose perfume filled the rooms. Then her favorite arbutus was strewn in lavish profusion, and a few exotics, like stray visitors, were welcomed to add their rich and varied beauty to the festivities of the occasion.
Rosalind wore a charmed expression, one of unusual serenity. She had accomplished every thing she intended, and nothing was left for this day which could be done before. She indulged in all the poetry of soul such an hour is calculated to inspire, and when the time came for her to dress, went about it as calmly as if she were merely to spend an evening out. Ernest re-arranged the orange bloom in her hair according to his artistic taste, after which they were ready to descend to the parlor.
Kate, who with becoming deference had refrained from her sallies of wit during the day, could no longer control herself, after being permitted with Milly and Amelia the honor of assisting at the bridal decorations, and addressed him, saying,—"If you do not look out she will take wings and fly to the seventh
