'The wedding was very pretty yesterday. We had frocks of tussore silk,
with bouquets of orchids and Penelope Boothby caps. She looked as
white as her gown--such a goose!--it was ivory satin, with _point de
Venise_. He is quite too handsome, and I cannot think what he could
see in her! He gave us each a locket with _her_ portrait inside. I
wished it had been _his_! I daresay Hampshire would have been better
for her, and worn longer than Romeo. Lord Cowes is furious about Romeo.
He detests the religion and all that, and he could hardly make himself
look pleasant even at church. Of course, there were two ceremonies. The
Cardinal had consented at last, though I believe he had made all kinds
of fuss first. Lady Gladys, you know, is very, _very_ High Church, and
I suppose that reconciled a little the very irreconcilable Prelate. She
thinks of nothing but the Church and her missions and her poor people.
I am afraid the Roman Prince will get dreadfully bored. And they are
going down into Bedfordshire, of all places, to be shut up for a month!
It is very stupid of her, and such a wet season as it is! They are
going to Coombe Bysset, her aunt, Lady Caroline's place. I fancy Romeo
will soon be bored, and I don't think Coombe Bysset at all judicious. I
would have gone to Homburg, or Deauville, or Japan.'
_From the Principessa di San Zenone, Coombe Bysset, Luton,
Beds., to the Countess of Cowes, London._
'DEAREST MOTHER,--I am too, too, too happy. It is no use writing about
it. I would if I could, but I _can't_. He is delighted with Coombe,
and says the verdure is something wonderful. We got here just as the
sun was setting. There were all Aunt Carrie's school children out to
meet us, with baskets of roses. Piero said they looked like bigger
roses themselves. He is enchanted with our rural England. It is very
fine to-day, and I do so hope it won't rain, but the glass is falling.
Forgive a hurried word like this. I am going to take Piero on the lake.
I know you haven't liked it, dear; but I am sure when you see how happy
I am you will say there was never anyone like him on earth.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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