With the words, Miss Yolland broke into a second fit of laughter, and, turning from Hesper, went, with a kind of loitering, strolling pace toward the door, glancing round more than once, each time with a fresh bubble rather than ripple in her laughter. Whether it was all nonsensical merriment, or whether the author of laughter without fun, Beelzebub himself, was at the moment stirring in her, Hesper could not have told; as it was, she sat staring after her, unable even to think. Just as she reached the door, however, she turned quickly, and, with the smile of a hearty, innocent child, or something very like it, ran back to Hesper, threw her arms round her, and said: "There, now! I've done for you what I could: I have made you forget the odious man for a moment. I was curious to know whether I could not make a bride forget her bridegroom. The other thing is too easy." "What other thing?" "To make a bridegroom forget his bride, of course, you silly child!--But there I am, off again! when really it is time to be serious, and come to the only important point in the matter.--In what shade of purity do you think of ascending the funeral pyre?--In absolute white?--or rose-tinged?--or cream-colored!--or gold-suspect?--Eh, happy bride?" As she ceased, she turned her head away, pulled out her handkerchief, and whimpered a little. "Sepia!" said Hesper, annoyed, "you are a worse goose than I thought you! What have _you_ got to cry about? _You_ have not got to marry him!" "No; I wish I had!" returned Sepia, wiping her eyes. "Then I shouldn't lose you. I should take care of that." "And am I likely to gain such a friend in Mr. Redmain as to afford the loss of the only _other_ friend I have?" said Hesper, calmly.