ed her from head to feet, and was held in place by
a diamond coronal. All her eight maids, though lovely girls, looked wan
and of the earth beside her. For her sake they had been content with
the simplicity of chiffon and white lace hats, and she stood among them
lustrous as some angelic being. Stanhope was entranced by her beauty,
and no one on this day wondered at his infatuation or thought remarkable
the ecstasy of reverent rapture with which he received the hand of his
bride. His sense of the gift was ravishing. She was now his love, his
wife forever, and when Ethel slipped forward to part and throw backward
the concealing veil, he very gently restrained her, and with his own
hands uncovered the blushing beauty, and kissed her there at the altar.
Then amid a murmur and stir of delighted sympathy he took his wife upon
his arm, and turned with her to the life they were to face together.

Two hours later all was a past dream. Bride and bridegroom had slipped
quietly away, and the wedding guests had arrived at that rather noisy
indifference which presages the end of an entertainment. Then flushed
and tired with hurrying congratulations and good wishes that stumbled
over each other, carriage after carriage departed; and Ethel and her
companions went to Dora's parlor to rest awhile and discuss the event of
the day. But Dora's parlor was in a state of confusion. It had, too, an
air of loss, and felt like a gilded cage from which the bird had flown.
They looked dismally at its discomfort and went downstairs. Men were
removing the faded flowers or sitting at the abandoned table eating
and drinking. Everywhere there was disorder and waste, and from the
servants' quarter came a noisy sense of riotous feasting.

"Where is Mrs. Denning?" Ethel asked a footman who was gathering
together the silver with the easy unconcern of a man whose ideas were
rosy with champagne. He looked up with a provoking familiarity at the
question, and sputtered out, "She's lying down crying and making a fuss.
Miss Day is with her, soothing of her."

"Let us go home," said Ethel.

And so, weary with pleasure, and heart-heavy with feelings that had no
longer any reason to exist, pale with fatigue, untidy with crush, their
pretty white gowns sullied and passe, each went her way; in every heart
a wonder whether the few hilarious hours of strange emotions were worth
all they claimed as their right and due.

Ruth had gone home earlier, and Ethel found he