"Oh, you poor, dear thing, I had forgotten all that trouble," said Ethel, giving her friend a hug which nearly strangled her; "but won't it come right in the end? Captain Duchesne says that she is so sweet, so charming--and your father is just delightful." "I think I can't talk about it," said Lesley, very quietly. "Then we won't. Did you know I had asked Captain Duchesne to the breakfast?" "Oh, Ethel, how heartless of you!" Lesley said, laughing in spite of herself. For Captain Duchesne's devotion was patent to all the world. At last they slept in each other's arms; but at seven o'clock Ethel was skimming about the room like a busy fairy, and it was Lesley, sleeping heavily after two or three wakeful nights, who had to be aroused by the little bride-elect, and Ethel laughed merrily to see her friend's start of surprise. "Ethel! Ethel! People should be waiting on you and here you are bringing me tea and bread and butter. This is too bad!" "It's a new departure," Ethel laughed. "There is no law against a bride's making herself useful as well as ornamental, is there? You will have to hurry up, all the same, Lesley: we are dreadfully late already. And it is the loveliest morning you ever saw--and the bouquets have just come from the florist--and everything is charming! I feel as if I could dance." But Ethel's mirth did not communicate itself to Lesley. There was nothing forced or unnatural in the young bride's happiness, but Lesley felt as if some cloud, some shadow, were in the air. Perhaps she had had bad dreams. She would not damp Ethel's spirits by a word of warning, but the old aunt from the country who came to inspect her niece as soon as she was dressed for church was not so considerate. "You are letting your spirits run away with you, my dear," she said, reprovingly. "Even on a wedding-day there should not be too much laughter. Tears before night, when there has been laughter before breakfast, remember the proverb says." "Oh, what a cheerful old lady!" said Ethel, brimming over with saucy laughter once more, as soon as the old dame's back was turned. "I don't care: I don't mean to be anything but a smiling bride--Oliver says that he hates tears at a wedding, and I don't mean him to see any." Maurice arrived just in time to dress and to escort his sister to the church. It was not he, but Mrs. Durant, the companion and house-keeper, who first received a word of warning that things were not altogether as they should be. Others beside Lesley were scenting calamity in the air. Mrs. Romaine was to form one of the wedding-party. She made her appearance at a quarter to ten, beautifully dressed, but white to the very lips, and with a haggard look about her eyes. As soon as she entered the house she drew Mrs. Durant aside. "Has Oliver been sleeping here?" she asked. "_Here!_" Mrs. Durant's indignant accent was sufficient answer. "He has not been home all night," Mrs. Romaine whispered. "Not at home!"