But Mrs Bray was there, gorgeous to behold, bearing upon her everything in the shape of costly dress that money would purchase. To describe her costume would be simply impossible, save to say that it was as solid-looking as her daughter's was light and airy--the plaits and folds of her silken robe literally creaked and crackled as she moved, which was all of a piece. Colour there was too; but what, it would be impossible to say, the prevailing hue being warm scarlet, which was shed upon Mr Bray, whose white vest was so stiff and grand, that nothing could have been whiter and stiffer and grander, unless it was the tremendous cravat that held his head as if he was being garotted-- symptoms of strangulation being really visible in the prominence of his eyes. But then, as he said, in regard to his sufferings, he did not have a daughter married every day. "I should have liked for Mr Maximilian to have been here," said Mrs Bray, as they were waiting for Nelly, who, now under the hands of Miss l'Aiguille, was being made up rapidly--her thin bony form growing quite graceful under the dressmakers fingers. "Bless me, though, what is the matter?" cried Mrs Bray. "Laura my dear, pray don't faint in those things, whatever you do!" "Hush!" cried Laura hoarsely, as, by a strong effort, she recovered herself. "Did you--did you say Max was here?" "No--no! I said I wished he was here," said Mrs Bray pettishly. "I do not see what you have got to turn queer about in that. Your own brother too!" Laura gave a sigh of relief and then closed her eyes for a few moments. "Only a little while now," she thought. The hour was very near, and surely nothing could stay the event. Then, summoning her resolution she began to pace slowly up and down the room. No tremulous maiden now, but a firm determined woman, who told herself that she had persevered and won the lover--the husband soon. "What are we waiting for?" said Mr Bray. "Two bridesmaids," said Mrs Bray: "Nelly and Miss Barnett. But we have plenty of time; and the Miss Lingons are not here yet. O, here they are, though!" The young ladies were set down at the door as she spoke; and soon the Bray drawing-room was well filled. The horses were pawing up the gravel, to the disgust of the gardener, who thought of the rolling to be done; but went and drowned his sorrows in some of the beer on the way, with ample solids, in the Bray kitchen. A bright brisk winterly day, with a wind that kissed each cheek as bride-elect and bridesmaids descended the steps, and entered the carriages drawn up in turn. Rattle, rattle, bang! went steps and doors; footmen were more upright than ever, and raised their chests into glorious hills, crowned with white satin-and-silver wedding-favours-- Mrs Bray insisting upon their being mounted at once.