atmosphere around. Her voice, throughout the whole response, was quite inaudible—just a whisper—fairy music; and, after the ceremony, she leant on her husband's arm with an air so different from that with which she had leant on her father's—she clung to the one, while she seemed to shrink from the other—gradually, however, drawing towards him, as if for support. When the rest crowded round with their congratulations, Edward felt greatly inclined to laugh as he offered his: their eyes met, and he was convinced the bride smothered a smile too; but whether the smile was mirth or triumph, would have been a difficult question to decide.
We must not forget the bridesmaids, who were selected with as much judgment as the rest: young, pretty, well calculated to set off the scene, but slight and brunettes, they were admirably calculated also to set off the height and fairness of Lady Adelaide.
The breakfast was as stupid as such breakfasts usually are. The bride is all timidity—the parents sorry, of course, to lose their sweet child—and the bridegroom is a non-entity. Lady Etheringhame changed her dress, and looked almost lovelier still in her travelling
