The journals then gave a list of the presents to the bride, which we need not republish; the gifts were from great people mostly, and were of the costliest character. They included necklets, with pendants of diamonds and pearls; bracelets set in brilliants, diamonds, brooches, workboxes inlaid with gold, dressing cases, Sévres vases, antique china, crosses set with diamonds, writing tablets, watches, fans, and a hundred other things of gold and silver and precious stones, and woods and china, and leather work. The monitors of the Press, who gave to the world this interesting account of the marriage, may almost be said to have been everywhere on that eventful day. They had been to Mr. Tallant’s residence and seen all the wedding presents; they had talked with the fashionable dressmaker and milliner who had had the making of the _trousseau_. They had seen the _déjeûner_ laid out in that fine room of the Gordon Hotel; but it was only the privilege of the writer of this history to follow the lady into her chamber. How handsome she looked! Those observant newspaper gentlemen might well speak of her charms and graceful carriage. When her maid had removed the long lace veil, and the bride’s hair had fallen loosely upon her shoulders, she presented a picture of _débonnaire_ gracefulness and beauty. And what a contrast they were,--the Countess, and Phœbe, with the Miranda-like simplicity and sweetness! “You may leave me now,” said the bride to her maid. “Yes, your ladyship,” said the woman. The title sounded strange and harsh somehow to the newly-made countess. It seemed to cut her off from the people whom she had known from childhood; and yet her heart beat with pride when she felt that she had reached the highest point of her ambition--that all her wild dream had come true. “How charming you look, my pet!” she said to Phœbe. “Reflected beauty,” said Phœbe, putting her arm round the bride. “Only reflected beauty, for I never saw you look so pretty, so lovely as you look this morning.” The Countess smiled a little sadly, but this might only be a woman’s tribute to the importance of the occasion. “How kind his lordship is! how very kind,” said the bride, as she discovered some new gift on the dressing table. “It made me cry to hear him speak so earnestly and nobly to-day when your health was proposed,” said Phœbe. “You are very tender-hearted,” said the Countess, “I did not see any one else look like crying; but the words touched me too. He is a truly generous, warm-hearted man, I am sure.” Phœbe looked at her friend, as much as to ask her if she had ever doubted it. The Countess read the thought in an instant. “You think me a strange woman. I have never thought much about his feelings or his heart until lately, Phœbe, and never so much as I have done this morning. It has been all ambition and revenge until to-day, Phœbe; what is it to be in the future?”