Few seemed to think of any thing beyond the
promised worldly advantage.
"I am glad that your daughter has married so well."
"Let me congratulate you, Squire Floyd, on this splendid match."
"It is not often, Mrs. Floyd, that a mother sees her daughter go
forth into the world with such brilliant prospects."
"You have all that your heart can desire, so far as Delia is
concerned, Mrs. Floyd."
"You are the envy of mothers."
And so I heard the changes rung on all sides of me, and from the
lips of people who might have looked deeper if they had taken the
trouble to use their eyes.
To me, the wedding was full of sad suggestions. It was one of those
social self-sacrifices, as common now as then, in which the victim
goes self-impelled to the altar, and lays upon its consuming fires
the richest dower of womanhood.
I listened to the vows that were made on this occasion, and felt a
low thrill of repulsion as words of such solemn import trembled on
the air, for too well I knew that a union of souls in a true
marriage, such as Delia Floyd might consummate, was impossible here.
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