Miss Charlton remarked to Mrs. Prendergast, with a sentimental sigh, that she perfectly understood Mrs. M'Diarmid,--that Miss Kilsyth's manner had had too little of the solemnity and exaltation of such a \serious and important event. "At such a moment, Henrietta," said the young lady, raising her fine eyes towards the ceiling, "earth and its restraints should fade, and the spirit be devoted to the heavenly temple, Which is the true scene of the marriage." "All I can say, then," said Mrs. M'Diarmid, by no means touched by the high-flown interpretation placed upon her remarks, "is, that if anyone can be reminded of a heavenly temple by St. George's, Hanover-square, they must have a lively imagination; for a duller and heavier earthly one I never was in in my life." "I suppose the wedding-party was numerous?" said Mrs. Charlton, who never could endure anything like a verbal passage-at-arms; and who was moreover occasionally beset by a misgiving that her daughter was rather silly. "Not what the Kilsyths would consider large, my dear; only their immediate connections and a few very intimate friends. Miss Kilsyth would have it so; and indeed the whole thing was got up in a hurry. It was announced in the _Morning Post_ on Monday, and the marriage came off on Wednesday." "I suppose the bride had some splendid presents?" said Miss Charlton, whose curiosity was agreeably irrepressible. "O yes, my dear, lots. Some beautiful and expensive; some ugly and more expensive; Several cheap and pretty; and a great many which could not possibly be of use to any rational being. You know Mr. Foljambe, don't you, Mrs. Prendergast?" "Yes," said Henrietta; "I know him slightly." "He is an old friend of Kilsyth's; poor man, he's very ill indeed--could not come to the wedding because he was ill then, and he is much worse since; he gave Madeleine the handsomest present of the lot--a beautiful set of pearls, and he sent her such a nice, kind, old-fashioned letter with them. He is a real old dear, though I always feel a little afraid of him somehow." "Is Mr. Foljambe really very ill?" said Mrs. Charlton. "I am sorry to say he is," said Henrietta; "I saw Dr. Whittaker to-day, and he gave a very bad account of him." "Dr. Whittaker?" said Mrs. Charlton inquiringly. "I don't know him; I--" "No," interrupted Henrietta with a smile; "he is not yet famous; he is only just beginning to be a rising man. He is a great friend of Dr. Wilmot's, who, when he went abroad, placed several of his principal patients in his hands." As Henrietta mentioned Wilmot's name, she glanced keenly at Mrs. M'Diarmid, and perceived at once that the mention of him produced an effect on the old lady of no pleasing kind. Her face became overcast in a moment. "I hope Miss Kilsyth's--I beg her pardon, Mrs. Caird's health is sufficiently restored to make any such provision in her case unnecessary," said Henrietta to Mrs. M'Diarmid in her best manner; which was a very good manner indeed.