ong
Scotch bones and Mary's round, dumpy shapelessness were, in their
different ways, equally hard to overcome; and the one was swelled out
with a fabulous number of petticoats, and the other pinched in, till she
gasped and screamed for mercy, while Blanche and Gertrude danced about,
beautiful to behold, under their shady hats; and presently, with a light
tap at the door, Meta Rivers stepped in, looking so pretty, that all
felt that to try to attain to such an appearance was vain.

Timid in her affection, she hardly dared to do more than kiss them, and
whisper her pretty caressing words to each. There was no more time--Dr.
Hoxton's carriage was come to take up the bride.

Ethel did as she was told, without much volition of her own; and she
quitted the carriage, and was drawn into her place by Norman, trusting
that Meta would not let her do wrong, and relieved that just in front
of her were the little ones, over whose heads she could see her father,
with Flora's veiled bending figure.

That pause while the procession was getting into order, the slow
movement up the centre aisle, the week-day atmosphere of the church,
brought back to her thoughts a very different time, and one of those
strange echoings on the mind repeated in her ears the words, "For man
walketh in a vain shadow, and disquieteth himself in vain--"

There was a little pause--George did not seem to be forthcoming, and
Meta turned round, rather uneasily, and whispered something about his
having been so nervous. However, there he was, looking exceedingly red,
and very sheepish, and disposed to fall back on his best man, Norman,
whose countenance was at the brightest--and almost handsome.

Dr. Hoxton performed the ceremony, "assisted by" Richard. It had been
Flora's choice; and his loud sonorous voice was thought very impressive.
Blanche stood the nearest, and looked happy and important, with Flora's
glove. Gertrude held Mary's hand, and gazed straight up into the fretted
roof, as if that were to her the chief marvel. Ethel stood and knelt,
but did not seem, to herself, to have the power of thinking or feeling.
She saw and heard--that was all; she could not realise.

They drew her forward, when it was over, to sign her name, as witness.
She took up the pen, looked at the Flora May, written for the last time,
and found her hand so trembling, that she said, half smiling, that
she could not write. Mary was only too well pleased to supply the
deficiency. Dr.