y, I see no objection to it--and as your cousin wishes it,
Pauline--if your mother is willing, I am," it was settled.

How beautiful Pauline looked when she came down stairs and presented
herself before her delighted father, dressed for the wedding. It was
the first time he had ever seen her in full dress; her white neck and
round arms uncovered, her rich dark hair looking darker and more
satinny for the wreath of pale, soft, delicate roses that bound
it--even the little foot seeming more fairy-like in the small white
satin slipper that inclosed it. If her father was accustomed to think
her peerless in the plain, high-necked merino dress in which he
usually saw her, what did he think of her now, when full dressed, or
rather undressed, as she stood before him, brilliant in the glow of
excitement, and fairer and fresher than even the flowers she wore?

He looked at her speechless, and when she said,

"Father, how do you like me?" could only kiss her fair forehead in
silence.

There was a reception after the wedding, and the beauty of the young
bridemaid excited no small degree of sensation; for Pauline, having
been brought up at home, was little known by the young people of her
own age, and so took society rather by surprise.

"Mrs. Grey," said Mrs. Livingston, "the bride has named Thursday
evening for me. You will do me the favor, therefore, I hope, of
considering yourself and your daughter engaged for that evening."

"Not Pauline, my dear madam," said Mrs. Grey. "She does not go out
this winter. She is so young that I hesitated much even letting her
act as bridemaid this evening."

"Oh, my dear Mrs. Grey," said Mrs. Livingston, much disappointed,
"pray reverse your decision--surely for the bridal parties at least. I
shall be so disappointed, for," with a smile, "I quite counted on the
presence of your beautiful daughter for the brilliancy of my party;"
and Pauline approaching just then, she said, "Pray, Miss Pauline, join
your petitions to mine--I do so want you to come to my party for the
bride."

"Why, mamma, of course," said Pauline. "The bridemaids must attend the
bride to the parties given for her--Cecelia says so."

"But, my love," said her mother, "you know I told Cecelia when I
consented to your being bridemaid, that you were not going out."

"Not generally--no; but just to the bridal parties, mamma. Oh, I
must"--and there was the little ominous bend of the brows at the words
"I must," when Mr. Grey