My aunt, who seemed quite satisfied with Mrs. Vandyke’s explanations, promised to be present at the ceremony, which was set at an alarmingly near day. My lovers on the contrary--by whom I mean the half dozen men who had been attentive to me--refused to attend, so I had one care less; for the lack of time--perhaps I should say my lack of means--precluded me from obtaining a very elaborate wedding dress, and I did not choose to have them see me appear on such an occasion in any less charming guise than I had been accustomed to wear at party or play. _He_ did not care what I wore. When I murmured something about the haste with which he had hurried things forward, and how it was likely to interfere with what most brides considered necessary to the proper celebration of such an event, he caught me to his breast with a feverish gesture and vowed that if he could have his way, there would be no preparation at all, but just a ceremony before a minister which would make me his without the least delay. Men may enjoy such precipitation, but women do not. I was so troubled by what seemed the meagerness of my wardrobe and the lack of everything I had been accustomed to see brides bring their husbands, that I asked Mrs. Vandyke one day if Mr. Allison was a rich man. She answered, with a smile: “No, my dear, not as we New-Yorkers count riches. Having the power of attorney for Mrs. Ransome, he handles a good deal of money; but very little of it is his own, though to you his five-thousand-a-year salary may seem a fortune.” This was so much Greek to me, though I did understand he was not considered wealthy. “Then my fawn-colored cloth will not be so very inappropriate for a wedding dress?” I asked. “I wish you could see yourself in it,” she said, and that satisfied me.