row may be selfish." Poor Emily listened but could make no
reply. "It is sometimes harder for us to be mindful of others in our
grief than in our joy. You should remember, dear, that there are some
who will never be light-hearted again till they see you smile."

"Do not say that, Mrs. Fletcher."

"It is quite true;--and right that you should think of it. It will
be particularly necessary that you should think of it to-morrow. You
will have to wear a light dress, and--"

"I have come provided," said the widow.

"Try then to make your heart as light as your frock. You will be
doing it for Everett's sake, and for your father's, and for Mary's
sake--and Arthur's. You will be doing it for the sake of all of us on
a day that should be joyous." She could not make any promise in reply
to this homily, but in her heart of hearts she acknowledged that it
was true, and declared to herself that she would make the effort
required of her.

On the following morning the house was of course in confusion. There
was to be a breakfast after the service, and after the breakfast the
bride was to be taken away in a carriage and four as far as Hereford
on her route to Paris;--but before the great breakfast there was
of course a subsidiary breakfast,--or how could bishop, bride, or
bridesmaids have sustained the ceremony? At this meal Emily did not
appear, having begged for a cup of tea in her own room. The carriages
to take the party to the church, which was but the other side of the
park, were ordered at eleven, and at a quarter before eleven she
appeared for the first time in her grey silk dress, and without a
widow's cap. Everything was very plain, but the alteration was so
great that it was impossible not to look at her. Even her father
had not seen the change before. Not a word was said, though old Mrs.
Fletcher's thanks were implied by the graciousness of her smile. As
there were four bridesmaids and four other ladies besides the bride
herself, in a few minutes she became obscured by the brightness of
the others;--and then they were all packed in their carriages and
taken to the church. The eyes which she most dreaded did not meet
hers till they were all standing round the altar. It was only then
that she saw Arthur Fletcher, who was there as her brother's best
man, and it was then that he took her hand and held it for half a
minute as though he never meant to part with it, hidden behind the
wide-spread glories of the bridesmaids' f