“It is doubtless true that a strong and powerful race of men may have so impressed upon their descendants as to leave their own peculiar traits unmodified and predominant to the latest generations,” said Marguerite, musing; and then, suddenly recollecting herself, she exclaimed: “Philip Helmstedt! surely I have heard that name in honorable association before, though I have never met the owner. Oh! by the way, is he not that gallant nephew, of whom I have heard your father speak, and who, though but thirteen years of age, followed him in the battle of Yorktown and performed such prodigies of youthful valor?” “Oh, yes! he’s fire-eater enough, and a terror in general, at least to me.” “But where has he been that I have never met him in society?” “Oh! he has been for a number of years studying at Heidelburg, and traveling all over the Eastern Continent. I was sufficiently afraid of him before he went away, and I am twice as much in awe of him since he came back; so I want you to veto him, Marguerite; for you may do so, and then the colonel will get somebody else to stand up in his stead. Will you?” “Certainly not. It would be a very great rudeness to all concerned,” said Miss De Lancie. The preparations for the marriage were, as I said, upon a magnificent scale. The _élite_ of the city and county were invited to be present. Upon the important evening the house was illuminated and thrown open. At a comparatively early hour the company began to assemble. At a quarter to eight o’clock precisely, the bride and her maids were ready to go down. Nellie looked, as all brides are expected to look, “never before so lovely.” A robe of embroidered white crape over white satin, a point lace veil, and a light wreath of orange blossoms, were the principal items of her costume. The two younger bridesmaids were attired in harmony in white gauze over white silk, with wreaths of snowdrops around their hair. The queenly form of Marguerite De Lancie was arrayed in a robe of the richest lace over white brocade; her superb black hair was crowned with a wreath of lilies, deep falls of the finest lace veiled her noble bust and arms, and the purest Oriental pearls adorned her neck and wrists; she looked as ever, a royal beauty. Scarcely was the last fold of Cornelia’s veil gracefully arranged by Marguerite, before the little bride, with a mixture of childish petulance and envy and genuine admiration, raised her eyes to the beautiful brow of her patroness, and said: “Ah! how stately, how radiant you are, Marguerite! But how shall I look, poor, insignificant, little, fady pigmy! my very bridegroom will be ashamed of his choice, seen by the side of the magnificent Miss De Lancie!”