It did not take long to undo the work of the morning, and the obnoxious bedstead, which nobody seemed to want, was soon stored away in the attic, while, with the help of a little morphine and an electric shock heavier than usual, Miss Rossiter slept tolerably well that night, and dreamed of eating all the “potted sprats” served up in Mrs. Opie’s “white lies.” CHAPTER XXIX. THE FIRST SUNDAY IN HAMPSTEAD. There was a great crowd at church that first Sunday after Mrs. Schuyler’s arrival in town. Perhaps it was the brightness of the day, and perhaps it was an unconfessed desire to see the bride, of whose personal appearance so many conflicting rumors were afloat. I was early at church myself, and felt nervous and excited when I knew that the Schuyler carriage had stopped at the door, and that I should soon see again the beautiful woman who had interested me so greatly. The Morrises, and Beechers, and Montgomeries, and Bartons from the Ridge, and indeed all the great families of the neighborhood, were already in their seats, and had said their prayers, and found their places, and arranged themselves comfortably and becomingly when the Schuylers came in, the colonel and his bride, with Godfrey and the young ladies following after. Edith’s dress was very plain and simple, a rich black silk, with some kind of a gauzy white scarf around her shoulders and a white chip bonnet, with lace and blue ribbons; and yet she was very elegant, as with eyes cast down and a flush on her cheek she walked up the aisle and took her seat in the Schuyler pew. There was perfect silence during the moment she was on her knees, but when she rose and threw a swift, curious glance about her we recovered ourselves and were ready for the “dearly beloved,” which I doubt if Edith heard, though she rose to her feet and let our village dressmaker, who sat behind, see just how the back of her skirt was trimmed. Edith was not thinking of the solemn service in which she joined involuntarily, nor of the many eyes turned upon her, but of the Sundays years ago, when she was a worshipper in that same house, though not in that pew, crimson cushioned and velvet carpeted, but in the humbler seat farther back, where now by some chance little Gertie sat, her blue eyes fixed upon the bride, and her face wearing an expression of perfect content, as if she understood the general impression the lady had made.