"Oh, there was no more uneasy soul in the whole
party that morning than the bride!" Let other people remark upon
the high look in Cora Tuttle's face, or gossip about the anxious
manner of the bridegroom; she, the speaker, could tell things about
the bride which would go to show that she was not all right even
before that ominous death's-head reared itself into view at her
marriage festival. Why, the fact that she came downstairs and was
married without her bridal bouquet was enough. Had there not been
so much else to talk about, people would have talked about that.
But the big event had so effectually swallowed up the little that
only herself, and possibly two other ladies she might name, seemed
to retain any memory of the matter.
"What ladies?" I asked.
"Oh, it doesn't matter what ladies. Two of the very best sort. I
know they noticed it, because I heard them talking about it. We
were all standing in the upper hall and were all crowded into a
passage leading to the room where the bride was dressing. It was
before the alarm had gone around of what had been discovered in the
library, and we were all impatient enough for the appearance of the
bride, who, we had been told, intended to wear the old point in
which her great-grandmother was married. I have a weakness for old
point and I was determined to stand where I could see her come out,
even if I lost sight of the ceremony itself.
Pages:
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236