ade to stand up there, with their faces toward the company, and to
receive the congratulations of a mighty procession of friends, who all
used the same formulas, except the very old ones, who were delicately
indelicate.

The bridegroom wore a blue coat and trousers, and a white satin
waistcoat embroidered with silver-thread roses and lilies-of-the-valley.
The coat was lined with cream-colored satin, quilted in a most elaborate
pattern; and his necktie was of satin, too, with embroidered ends. His
shirt was a miracle of fine linen. As to the bride, she was in white
satin and lace, and at her throat she wore a little bunch of late white
columbines, for which Mr. Jacob Dolph the younger had scoured the woods
near Fort Washington.

There was to be a grand supper, later; and the time of waiting was
filled up with fashionable conversation.

That dear old doctor, who was then a dear young doctor, and whose fine
snow-crowned face stood in later years as an outward and visible sign of
all that was brave, kindly, self-sacrificing, and benevolent in the art
of healing, was seated by Madam Des Anges, and was telling her, in
stately phrase, suited to his auditor, of a certain case of heroism with
which he had met in the course of his practice. Mr. Blank, it appeared,
had been bitten by a dog that was supposed to be possessed by the
rabies. For months he had suffered the agonies of mental suspense and of
repeated cauterizing of the flesh, and during those months had concealed
his case from his wife, that he might spare her pain--suffering in
silence enough to unnerve most men.

"It was heroic," said Dr. F.

Madam Des Anges bowed her gray head approvingly.

"I think," she said, "his conduct shows him to be a man of taste. Had he
informed his wife of his condition, she might have experienced the most
annoying solicitude; and I am informed that she is a person of feeble
character."

The doctor looked at her, and then down at the floor; and then he asked
her if she did not hope that Almaviva Lynch would bring Garcia back
again, with that marvellous Italian opera, which, as he justly observed,
captivated the eye, charmed the ear, and awakened the profoundest
emotions of the heart.

And at that Madam Des Anges showed some animation, and responded that
she had listened to some pleasing operas in Paris; but she did not know
that they were of Italian origin.

But if Madam Des Anges was surprised to learn that any good thing could