e no moan about the absence of bridesmaids.

'She appeared too profoundly happy to meditate an instant upon
deficiencies.'

'How did the bridegroom behave?'

'Lord Fleetwood was very methodical. He is not, or was not, voluntarily
a talker.'

'Blue coat, brass buttons, hot-house flower? old style or new?'

'His lordship wore a rather low beaver and a buttoned white overcoat,
not out of harmony with the bride's plain travelling-dress.'

'Ah! he's a good whip, men say. Keeps first-rate stables, hacks, and
bloods. Esslemont hard by will be the place for their honeymoon, I
guess. And he's a lucky dog, if he knows his luck.'

So said Admiral Baldwin. He was proceeding to say more, for he had a
prodigious opinion of the young countess and the benefit of her
marriage to the British race. As it concerned a healthy constitution and
motherhood, Mrs. Carthew coughed and retired. Nor do I reprove either of
them. The speculation and the decorum are equally commendable.
Masculine ideas are one thing; but let feminine ever be feminine, or our
civilization perishes.

At Croridge village church, then, one of the smallest churches in the
kingdom, the ceremony was performed and duly witnessed, names written in
the vestry book, the clergyman's fee, the clerk, and the pew-woman, paid
by the bridegroom. And thus we see how a pair of lovers, blind with the
one object of lovers in view; and a miserly uncle, all on edge to save
himself the expense of supporting his niece; and an idolatrous old
admiral, on his back with gout; conduced in turn and together to the
marriage gradually exciting the world's wonder, till it eclipsed the
story of the Old Buccaneer and Countess Fanny, which it caused to be
discussed afresh.

Mrs. Carthew remembered Carinthia Jane's last maiden remark and her
first bridal utterance. On the way, walking to the church of Croridge
from Lekkatts, the girl said: 'Going on my feet, I feel I continue the
mountain walk with my brother when we left our home.' And after leaving
the church, about to mount the coach, she turned to Mrs. Carthew,
saying, as she embraced her:

'A happy bride's kiss should bring some good fortune.' And looking down
from her place on the top of the coach:

'Adieu, dear Mrs. Carthew. A day of glory it is to-day.' She must
actually have had it in her sight as a day of glory: and it was a day of
the clouds off our rainy quarter, similar in every way to the day of her
stepping on English soil and