eption hall, played the "Largo" of Handel. In the third parlor from
the ceiling were suspended ropes or garlands of smilax and bride's roses,
which formed a dainty canopy. White satin ribbons festooned on two rows
of potted marguerites made a bridal pathway direct from the foot of the
stairway to the dais beneath the canopy.

On the low platform stood the bishop and the manly bridegroom expectant,
when a voice at the foot of the stairway, accompanied by three
instruments, sang the Elsa's Dream Song. The wedding party came
downstairs as the orchestra played Wagner's Wedding March. The bride was
dressed in duchess satin of soft ivory tone, the bodice high and long
sleeves, with trimming of jewelled point lace. The bridesmaids wore pale
yellow cloth, with reveres and cuffs of daffodil yellow satin and white
Venetian point. Mrs. Harris wore a gown of heliotrope brocaded silk,
trimmed with rich lace and a bodice of velvet.

The wedding party took their places and Mme. Melba accompanied by piano,
harp, and violin sang Gounod's "Ave Maria."

The bishop addressed a few earnest words to the couple before him, spoke
of responsibilities and obligations, and then the formal questions of
marriage, in distinct voice, were put to George and Gertrude.

Mr. and Mrs. George Ingram received hearty congratulations. The guests
retired to the banquet hall where breakfast was served. One table with
marguerites was reserved for bride and bridegroom, ushers, and
bridesmaids. Before the breakfast was ended the bride and bridegroom had
escaped, but soon returned, the bride in a traveling gown of blue cloth.
Volleys of rice followed the bridal pair, and more rice pelted the
windows of the coach as it drove to the express train which was to convey
the happy pair to Fontainebleau for a day, and thence into Switzerland.
In the evening Colonel Harris entertained a large party of friends at the
new opera house. The Harrises next morning left for southern France.

Before the marriage day George and Gertrude had carefully provided in
Paris for the welfare of May Ingram whom both loved. And well they might,
for May had a noble nature, and her music teachers in Boston, who had
exerted their best efforts in her behalf, believed that she possessed
rare talents, which, if properly developed, would some day make her
conspicuous in the American galaxy of primadonnas.

They had secured for May sunny rooms at a pension in the Boulevard
Haussmann, where a mot