Africa, West -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
“MY DEAR MISS CHYNE,--I hasten to reply to your kind letter of to-day
announcing your approaching marriage with my son. There are a certain
number of trinkets which have always been handed on from generation to
generation. I will at once have these cleaned by the jeweller, in order
that they may be presented to you immediately after the ceremony.
Allow me to urge upon you the advisability of drawing up and signing a
prenuptial marriage settlement.--Yours sincerely,
“JOHN MEREDITH.”
Millicent bit her pretty lip when she perused this note. She made two
comments, at a considerable interval of time.
“Stupid old thing!” was the first; and then, after a pause, “I HOPE they
are all diamonds.”
Close upon the heels of this letter followed a host of others. There was
the gushing, fervent letter of the friend whose joy was not marred by
the knowledge that a wedding present must necessarily follow. Those
among one's friends who are not called upon to offer a more substantial
token of joy than a letter are always the most keenly pleased to hear
the news of an engagement. There was the sober sheet (crossed) from the
elderly relative living in the country, who, never having been married
herself, takes the opportunity of giving four pages of advice to one
about to enter that parlous state. There was the fatherly letter from
the country rector who christened Millicent, and thinks that he may
be asked to marry her in a fashionable London church--and so to a
bishopric. On heavily-crested stationery follow the missives of the
ladies whose daughters would make sweet bridesmaids. Also the hearty
congratulations of the slight acquaintance, who is going to Egypt for
the winter, and being desirous of letting her house without having to
pay one of those horrid agents, “sees no harm in mentioning it.” The
house being most singularly suitable for a young married couple. Besides
these, the thousand and one who wished to be invited to the wedding
in order to taste cake and champagne at the time, and thereafter the
sweeter glory of seeing their names in the fashionable news.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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