e bouquets have just
come from the florist--and everything is charming! I feel as if I could
dance."

But Ethel's mirth did not communicate itself to Lesley. There was
nothing forced or unnatural in the young bride's happiness, but Lesley
felt as if some cloud, some shadow, were in the air. Perhaps she had had
bad dreams. She would not damp Ethel's spirits by a word of warning, but
the old aunt from the country who came to inspect her niece as soon as
she was dressed for church was not so considerate.

"You are letting your spirits run away with you, my dear," she said,
reprovingly. "Even on a wedding-day there should not be too much
laughter. Tears before night, when there has been laughter before
breakfast, remember the proverb says."

"Oh, what a cheerful old lady!" said Ethel, brimming over with saucy
laughter once more, as soon as the old dame's back was turned. "I don't
care: I don't mean to be anything but a smiling bride--Oliver says that
he hates tears at a wedding, and I don't mean him to see any."

Maurice arrived just in time to dress and to escort his sister to the
church. It was not he, but Mrs. Durant, the companion and house-keeper,
who first received a word of warning that things were not altogether as
they should be. Others beside Lesley were scenting calamity in the air.
Mrs. Romaine was to form one of the wedding-party. She made her
appearance at a quarter to ten, beautifully dressed, but white to the
very lips, and with a haggard look about her eyes. As soon as she
entered the house she drew Mrs. Durant aside.

"Has Oliver been sleeping here?" she asked.

"_Here!_" Mrs. Durant's indignant accent was sufficient answer.

"He has not been home all night," Mrs. Romaine whispered.

"Not at home!"

"I suppose he is sleeping at his club and will come on from there," Mrs.
Romaine answered, trying to reassure herself now that she had given the
alarm to another. "Everything has been ordered--my bouquet came from
him, at least from the florist's this morning--and I suppose we shall
find him at the church. But I have been dreadfully anxious about
him--quite foolishly, I daresay. Don't say anything to any body else."

Mrs. Durant did not mean to say anything, but--without exactly stating
facts--she had managed in about three minutes to convey her own and Mrs.
Romaine's feeling of discomfort, to the whole party. The only exceptions
were Maurice and Ethel, who, of course, heard nothing. A gloom fell upo