That night, a small steamer put in at a landing, not far from Mrs. Oakley’s cottage, and a crowd of cheerful, richly dressed persons came, in scattered groups, along the shore, chattering, laughing, and making the sweet air joyous with merriment. There was one group quieter than the rest, and over which a gentle serenity, almost amounting to sadness, seemed to reign. This was the bridal party. George De Marke walked gravely by his brother, leading the adopted son by the hand; and the child now and then brought a smile to his lips, by his pretty surprise at the number of persons who seemed to be visitors at his home. At the right hand of the widow-bride moved the stately Mrs. Judson, all smiles and condescension to the man whom, a few days before, she was ready to crush into the earth with sovereign disdain. Her dress of purple and gold brocade swept the grass with its rich folds, and she wore her mantilla of old point as a queen displays the ermine of royalty. There was no bridesmaid, for Mrs. Oakley, in her heart, had resolved that Catharine should occupy that position. She hoped to see her in time to enter into all those explanations which would render the position unexceptionable to her friend. As they approached the cottage, the bride looked anxiously forward, expecting to see Catharine coming forth to greet her; in this she was disappointed. The visitors, many of them, remained out-of-doors, for the evening was delightful, and a pleasant breeze stole up from the water. Those who preferred it came in-doors, and all around the dwelling, inside and out, groups of happy people wandered to and fro, ready at any moment to be summoned to the marriage ceremony. Mrs. Oakley went to her room, a little nervous, and somewhat anxious about the non-appearance of her intended bridesmaid. The chambermaid was very busy, upon her knees, unpacking a trunk which contained the bridal paraphernalia. There was a half sneer upon her face, as she unfolded the snowy robe, and laid out the mist-like veil of Brussels’ point, with which the bridal wreath was entwined, ready for the fair brow it was to crown. “What is this? two dresses, and white lace trimmings for both,” said Jane, gruffly, laying the dresses side by side, across the bed. “According to my judgment, one will be too many.” Jane muttered the last words in her throat, as she stood eying the bridal robes askance. “Yes, yes,” said the bride, hurriedly, “the dress nearest you, wreath and everything, is intended for Miss Barr. Send some one to say that we are here, and tell her to lose no time, we shall be waiting for her. Of course, you gave my invitations.” The girl answered, that she had delivered both; and as she spoke, the bride saw a smile, creeping, like a viper, across her lips. “They will come, of course. Nothing has gone wrong, I hope.” “Oh, it is a sure thing, ma’am; they’ll come.”