It was
the happiest bridal reception--always excepting the one in which my
Constance wore the orange wreath--that I had ever seen. Do you
inquire of Wallingford, as to how he looked and seemed? Worthy of
the splendid woman who stood by his side and leaned towards him with
such a sweet assurance. How beautiful it was to see the proud look
with which she turned her eyes upon him, whenever he spoke! It was
plain, that to her, his words had deeper meanings in them, than came
to other ears.
"It is all right, I see." I had drawn a chair close to the one in
which Mrs. Montgomery sat, and was holding in mine the thin, almost
shadowy hand which she had extended.
"Yes, it is all right, Doctor," she answered, as a smile lit up her
pale face. "All right, and I am numbered among the happiest of
mothers. He is not titled, nor rich, nor noble in the vulgar
sense--but titled, and rich, and noble as God gives rank and wealth.
I came to this land of promise ten years ago, in search of an estate
for my child; and I have found it, at last. Ah, Doctor"--and site
glanced upwards as she spoke--"His ways are not as our ways.
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