How beautiful Pauline looked when she came down stairs and presented herself before her delighted father, dressed for the wedding. It was the first time he had ever seen her in full dress; her white neck and round arms uncovered, her rich dark hair looking darker and more satinny for the wreath of pale, soft, delicate roses that bound it--even the little foot seeming more fairy-like in the small white satin slipper that inclosed it. If her father was accustomed to think her peerless in the plain, high-necked merino dress in which he usually saw her, what did he think of her now, when full dressed, or rather undressed, as she stood before him, brilliant in the glow of excitement, and fairer and fresher than even the flowers she wore? He looked at her speechless, and when she said, "Father, how do you like me?" could only kiss her fair forehead in silence. There was a reception after the wedding, and the beauty of the young bridemaid excited no small degree of sensation; for Pauline, having been brought up at home, was little known by the young people of her own age, and so took society rather by surprise. "Mrs. Grey," said Mrs. Livingston, "the bride has named Thursday evening for me. You will do me the favor, therefore, I hope, of considering yourself and your daughter engaged for that evening." "Not Pauline, my dear madam," said Mrs. Grey. "She does not go out this winter. She is so young that I hesitated much even letting her act as bridemaid this evening." "Oh, my dear Mrs. Grey," said Mrs. Livingston, much disappointed, "pray reverse your decision--surely for the bridal parties at least. I shall be so disappointed, for," with a smile, "I quite counted on the presence of your beautiful daughter for the brilliancy of my party;" and Pauline approaching just then, she said, "Pray, Miss Pauline, join your petitions to mine--I do so want you to come to my party for the bride." "Why, mamma, of course," said Pauline. "The bridemaids must attend the bride to the parties given for her--Cecelia says so." "But, my love," said her mother, "you know I told Cecelia when I consented to your being bridemaid, that you were not going out." "Not generally--no; but just to the bridal parties, mamma. Oh, I must"--and there was the little ominous bend of the brows at the words "I must," when Mr. Grey coming up, her mother, glad in her turn to throw the responsibility on him, said, "Well, ask your father; see what he says." "What is it, Pauline?" said Mr. Grey, smiling assent before she had spoken. "May I not, papa, attend the bridal parties with the rest of the bridemaids," she said, half pouting. "Cecelia says it will spoil the bridal cotillion if I am absent; and then--oh, papa, I must," she continued, in a tone of such earnest entreaty, entreaty that seemed to admit of no refusal, that he smiled as he said, "Well, if you _must_, I suppose you must."