She knew Isabella’s character thoroughly, and could not but be aware there were many points in it which were not calculated to make a happy _ménage_. Love of admiration, a consciousness of power, and a delight in exercising that power, were among the most conspicuous. She also thought Lord Delaford was a man likely to be much influenced by those he loved, and lived with—and she resolved, if possible, to lead Isabella’s mind towards using her influence over him for none but good purposes. She came down to breakfast the next morning placid, and even cheerful. Isabella, whose mind had been quite relieved from the lurking apprehension of having cut out her gentle and unpresuming cousin, by the brilliancy and animation of Fanny the preceding evening, and had settled that she could not care about Lord Delaford, as she was so evidently elated by the admiration of the other gentlemen, was completely confirmed in this notion by her cheerfulness at breakfast, and by the manner in which she opened the conversation upon Isabella’s marriage when they were alone. In vain did Fanny try to inspire her with the same notions of devotion and self-sacrifice which she herself entertained. Isabella was in love with Lord Delaford—that is to say, she preferred him to all others, and exceedingly liked his love of her; but as for considering his happiness, his pleasure, his advantage, his interests, before her own, the idea seemed to her an idle romantic dream. Weeks elapsed, and the settlements were arranged; the wedding clothes prepared. Lord Delaford had returned, after a fortnight’s absence, for the few days preceding the marriage, which was to take place in the village church of Elmsley Priory. Fanny was glad that the ceremony was to be performed in the church, for she thought that the solemnity of the scene, and the holiness of the place, would more completely eradicate from her bosom the feelings which she feared were rather smothered, than destroyed. It was, indeed, a day of trial, almost beyond the strength of even her chastened spirit to endure, without betraying the struggle. She was bridesmaid, and she had to stand unmoved during the whole of a ceremony which, to the least interested, is touching and affecting. She heard him utter the solemn vow which separated him for ever from her—she saw their plighted hands—she heard the priest’s benediction on the youthful couple as they knelt before him. She did not shed a tear, she scarcely trembled, when Isabella, half-fainting, leaned on her for support. She sustained her graceful bending form, she whispered her words of encouragement, till, at the close, the bridegroom proudly led his wedded wife from the altar.