"I am not likely to
forget that my wife is my superior in social rank."
"A superiority that counts for very little when unsustained by hard cash,
my dear Granger," returned Marmaduke Lovel lightly. He was supremely
content with the state of affairs, and had no wish to humiliate his
son-in-law.
So the wedding was performed as simply as if Miss Lovel had been uniting
her fortunes with those of some fledgling of the curate species. There
were only two bridesmaids--Miss Granger, who performed the office with an
unwilling heart; and Miss Pontifex, a flaxen-haired young lady of high
family and no particular means, provided for the occasion by Mrs. Oliver,
at whose house she and Clarissa had become acquainted. There was a
breakfast, elegant enough in its way--for the Holborough confectioner had
been put upon his mettle by Mrs. Oliver--served prettily in the cottage
parlour. The sun shone brightly upon Mr. Granger's espousals. The village
children lined the churchyard walk, and strewed spring flowers upon the
path of bride and bridegroom--tender vernal blossoms which scarcely
harmonised with Daniel Granger's stalwart presence and fifty years.
Clarissa, very pale and still, with a strange fixed look on her face, came
out of the little church upon her husband's arm; and it seemed to her in
that hour as if all the life before her was like an unknown country, hidden
by a great cloud.
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