"She'd have had to look strange and fine, if she did, mum, that she would!" exclaimed Jane, handmaiden in ordinary at the rectory, but now to be promoted to the honourable post of maid to Lady Gernon. Jane had first entered the room very red of cheek, due to a salute placed thereon by Mr Gurdon, Sir Murray's gentleman, who had but a few moments before arrived with the bouquet Jane bore in her hand, and a note. But note and flowers, and even the impudence of "that Gurdon," were forgotten in Jane's genuine admiration, as, catching Ada's words, she had delivered her own opinion. Till now, though pale, Marion's face had been bright and animated as that of her cousin, and to have seen the two girls, no one would have imagined that they had each passed a troubled and almost sleepless night. The forebodings of the past seemed to have been dismissed, and Ada, seeing how bright and happy her cousin appeared, forbore even to hint at last night's tears. But now came a message from the anxious rector, respecting time, and the last touches were given to the bridal apparel; when, turning round, after hastily adjusting her own veil, Ada exclaimed: "Oh, Marion! Is that wise?" "Oh, Miss!" exclaimed Jane. "Not wear that beautiful bookey, as Sir Murray sent?" Marion made no answer, but quietly arranged the bunch of forget-me-nots, culled the previous day in the fen, and utterly regardless of her cousin's words, pinned them on her breast, with a sad smile. Then, turning to Ada, she said, gaily: "You must have that bouquet, Ada." "But there's ever so many more downstairs, miss, on purpose for the bridesmaids," said Jane, excitedly. And then she raised her hands, as if mutely exclaiming, "What obstinacy!" as she saw Ada take the bouquet and hold it, gazing curiously at Marion's pale, sweet face, and then glancing at the little blue flowers upon her breast. Marion interpreted her looks, and leaning forward, kissed her tenderly. "Don't grudge me that little satisfaction, dear," she said. "You see how I am this morning. Are you not satisfied with the way in which I have taken your advice to heart?" "Oh, yes--yes, dear," exclaimed Ada, clinging to her; "but was this wise?" And she pointed with Sir Murray's bouquet to the simple marsh flowers. "Wise!" said Marion, "perhaps not; but I placed them there _in memoriam_. Should we forget the dead?" "There, do pray, for goodness gracious' sake, Miss, mind what you're a doing! You're cramming Miss Marion's veil all to nothing, and I know you'll be sorry for it after." "Jane's right," said Ada, merrily. "I won't `cram' you any more. Come, dear, there's uncle going out of his wits because we're so long. He won't be happy till the knot is tied. I know he's afraid that Sir Murray will repent at the eleventh hour, aren't you, uncle?" she continued, as, on opening the door, she found the anxious father on the landing. "Come, my dears--come, my dears!" he cried; and then, "Heaven bless you, my darling!"