Clara could not speak. “I shall want to hear all about it, you know,” said Phœbe; “and your new dress and bonnet and all are ready. I shall want to hear how they all looked, and whether Miss Jeannie spoke up, and who was there.” Again Phœbe paused. “And if--if, Clara--I am not here for you to tell, please go very quietly just the same. You can easily slip in among the crowd and see it. In fact, I want you to promise me to go in any case. You will be sorry to have missed it. And now--don’t let us talk any more about that. You were going to read Lord Fauntleroy to me. I think Mr. Arthur must have been so like him when he was little. We had just got to where he went out to ride.” And Miss Clara wiped her eyes furtively, and found her place. CHAPTER XX A brilliant June sun lay sparkling on tree and tower and over the roofs of Wroxton and the downs which rise above the city. The morning might have been ordered, like the wedding-cake, with _carte-blanche_, and no expense to be spared. The promise of that first day of spring when Jeannie had played golf with her fiancé was royally fulfilled, the vigour and glory of the year was at its midmost. A light wind tempered the heat of the morning, and set all the leaves of the trees chattering to each other, and woke innumerable songs in the throats of the lawn-haunting birds. The marriage was to take place at two, and for an hour before people had streamed into the Cathedral. The rows of free seats in nave and transepts were full of the boys and girls of Jeannie’s classes, and the combined length of feather in the girls’ hats would have stretched from Bolton Street to the altar. Many of them knew exactly how to behave at a marriage, and long before anything happened at all were crying profusely into their pocket-handkerchiefs. This very proper proceeding was interrupted with interested glances toward the west door, and when, a few minutes before two, it was rumoured that the bridegroom had arrived, the handkerchiefs were discreetly put away, for if you weep you are apt to miss points of interest. The choir was kept for the invited guests, who had come in enormous numbers. A whole clan of Aveshams and Fortescues were there, and Colonel Raymond felt it was quite a family gathering, and was conscientiously able to congratulate himself on their appearance. The Collingwood party, he considered, lacked that fine air of distinction which marked his race, and the Colonel looked immensely interesting, and quite distinctly caught the eye of a countess no less, who instantly looked away. Among the women present there was only one dark spot of colour. In a seat near the screen was Miss Clara. She was in black. Weddings tend to be like each other. There are the same pieces on the organ, and for the most part the same hymns. There is the same anxiety to see how the bride behaves, and the same disappointment to find that she behaves like most other brides.