But all was soon finally said and done—so few are the words which, once read over, totally change our existence, and fix our fate in life for ever! The usual congratulations passed, and the chaise and four, decorated with bridal favours, rattled to the door. Emmeline threw herself sobbing into her mother’s arms—the first sob, since those of childhood, which had ever been wrung from her light heart. Her proud father gaily kissed her cheek, addressing her by her new title of “Lady Fitzhenry;” then, drawing her arm within his, hurried her down stairs, placed her in the carriage, into which the bridegroom followed, and the “happy pair” drove off as fast as four post horses could convey them. How blank such moments are to those who remain behind! The company soon separated after the usual breakfast, and Mr. and Mrs. Benson were left alone. All excitement, over the deserted mother’s spirits then sank; mournfully she paced the now silent room, and mechanically removed from the table Emmeline’s work-box, which she had left behind her, gazing on her name, engraven on the lid, till her tears burst forth. Her distress roused Mr. Benson from the trance of exultation in which he had been lost as he watched the last bridal carriage that had driven from the door, and he kindly hastened to his wife. “Why, my good woman, crying! and on such a day! when you should be so happy—for shame! for shame!” Mrs. Benson shook her head mournfully. “God grant it indeed _prove_ a happy day! may our beloved child be so!” and she sighed deeply. “Why, how can you doubt she will?” said her husband; “she has every thing this world can give; rank!” (and he laid a great stress on that word,) “riches, youth; and, for a husband, a most excellent and accomplished young man, of whom every one speaks well. None of your gamblers, jockies, spendthrifts. I am sure Emmeline and ourselves are the envy of all our acquaintance. Any one might be pleased and proud to see his daughter so well married.” Mrs. Benson again sighed, wiped away her tears, and then quietly returned to her usual avocations. Meanwhile, Lord and Lady Fitzhenry travelled on, and a few hours brought them to Arlingford Hall, which, on his son’s marriage, Lord Arlingford had given up to him, meaning to reside himself at a villa at Wimbledon; his health, which had of late been very precarious, making a near residence to town advisable. Arlingford Hall, which was in Hampshire, had been completely repaired and refurnished for the new married couple; Lord Fitzhenry having himself been much there lately, superintending the alterations. At least, that occupation was always mentioned as an apology for his absence from town, and for his not attending more assiduously on his future bride.