The heart of Leslie, nevertheless, as she bustled about, seeing to it
that every one was provided with refreshment, confessed a point of
bitterness. In a way, it was envy of Brenda. Not of her happiness, or
her husband, of course. But she did wish the man lived and would present
himself who could inspire her with such feelings as Brenda's. The kind
of man who cared for her she somehow never cared for--a serious barrier
to experiencing a _grande passion_. And on this day of
wedding-bells it seemed a pity. The girl of many offers felt sad.

Mrs. Foss smiled a pleased, incessant smile, not "realizing" the thing
which was happening, as she told her sister-in-law who had come over
from America with the bride. Her chick had developed tendencies unknown
among the breed, taken to the water and swum away with a swan. But the
mother had confidence. She believed in marriage. The institution had
been justified by her example and Jerome's. Her eyes sought him out, a
little anxiously, to peruse his face. The idea could not for a moment be
admitted that he had a favorite among his children, but yet it was
acknowledged that Brenda had always in a very special way been near to
her father's heart. From his calm and serenity in conversation with that
nice big Doctor Bewick, Mrs. Foss was able to hope that he too did not
"realize."

Aurora watched the bride and groom with fairly fascinated eyes, but from
a certain distance. They had been nice, they had thanked her handsomely
for her handsome present, but nothing could modify her regretful
certitude that Brenda did not care for her. And it might so easily have
been she and not the good Aunt Brenda who secured for the _sposo_
his career of silver lace and sabre.... And Brenda, innocently
unknowing, would just the same not have liked her. But there! Beautiful
Brenda didn't go about loving everybody. She had the more glory to
confer upon the one. Oh, harmoniously matched, high-removed pair! Oh,
hymeneal crowning of tenderness and truth!... Aurora in a kind of awe
wondered what elevated things those pale rose lips of the bride would
say to the bridegroom when, the turmoil of festivity ended, they were in
nuptial solitude. Impossible to imagine! It must be something altogether
beyond other brides; and his words must make those of all other lovers
sound common and poor.

* * * * *

When the arch of flowers was empty and the happy pair had left for the