Lord Glenmore's marriage soon became the subject of general conversation. The day of the nuptials was already named, and the ceremony was to be in the most splendid style. In compliment to Lord Glenmore, several of his acquaintance were invited. Amongst these was Lady Tilney and Lady Tenderden; the Comtesse Leinsengen of course; and Lady Ellersby, who on her mother's side was related to the family of the Melcombs. The parties named expressed themselves annoyed at the idea of forming part of what they called the Melcomb mÉlange; but a secret wish to retain an influence with Lord Glenmore, whose marriage it was intended should not, without a trial of Miss Melcomb's aptitude for ton, banish him from their circle.

The whole affair, however, was sotto sugezione in the opinion of Lady Tilney and her friends. "The strangest thing of all is," exclaimed the former, as she was conversing on the subject with Lady Tenderden and the Comtesse Leinsengen, "that the marriage takes place in church."

"In church! quelle idÉe, vraiment on mourra de froid."

"And pray how must one be dressed?" inquired Lady Tenderden.

"Oh, en costume de traineau, I presume, since it is in von of your cold church; but vat sinifies how von dresses for it?"

"If it rains I really must send my excuse," said Lady Tilney, who wanted to be on a level at least with the Comtesse in impertinence. "Have you seen the trousseau?" she added.

"Yes, I have," replied Lady Tenderden. Lady Tilney looked blank; she could not bear that others should precede her even in the inspection of a trousseau. Lady Tenderden, continued:—"Madame Duval brought me every thing that was worth seeing; the laces are magnificent, and the corbeille de noces, and every thing is in good taste. But here is Lady Ellersby," exclaimed Lady Tenderden, glad to break off from a subject which had been disagreeable to her, "I do not suppose she will approve of the programme of this ceremony."

"My dear Lady Ellersby," the ladies all exclaimed, running up to her, "why did you not exert your influence with Lady Melcomb to prevent this baroque fancy of being married in church; surely your relationship would have authorized your good advice on the occasion." Lady Ellersby looked surprised, and asked an explanation.

"Do you not know," answered Lady Tilney, "that the ceremony is to take place in a church?"

"La! does it? What a strange fancy!" drawled Lady Ellersby; "but I should never think of giving any advice to Lady Melcomb—I never do, to any body."

"Dat Mademoiselle Melcomb, vid all her imbecile niaiserie, seems not to have played her part amiss."

"I think she will turn out better than one could have supposed," rejoined Lady Tenderden, "when she becomes un peu plus faÇonnÉ."

"Do tell me who are the invited?" interrupted Lady Tilney, addressing Lady Ellersby.

"Oh, half London, to be sure; such a quantity of tiresome relations, and so much property, and family dignity, there will be no end of all the cousins—don't you know they are just the sort of people who teem with relations?"

"But who is there of the party that one knows?" replied Lady Tilney.

"Oh, there are ourselves, and the Duke of Mercington, and the Boileaus, and Baskervilles, I believe; I fancy too the Duke and Duchess D'Hermanton, and some of that set, are also among the priÉs, but I must go now en qualitÉ de cousine, and leave my card with the Melcombs, and then I shall go on to Kitchener's, who has the resetting of the family diamonds. I am told they are magnificent; and I should so like to persuade Lord Ellersby to let mine be reset too, I have had them three years in their present form, and am so tired of them as they are—he, he, he!—well—adieu, we shall meet to-night at Lady De Chere's?"

"Avouez moi qu'elle passe la permission qu'ou a d'Être bÊte," observed Lady Tenderden, as she left the room.

"May be so, but she is a very old friend of mine, and besides, she is perfectly comme il faut, and after all, that sort of thing gets on in the world just as well as talent."

"Perhaps better," rejoined Lady Tilney.

"PrÉcisement," said the Comtesse Leinsengen, "but, il faut que je pars, je vais voir le trousseau, for oderwise I shall have nothing to say to Lady Baskerville, who goes vid me to-night to de Opera. Adieu les belles, adieu."

"I wonder how she can be at the trouble of going to see that foolish trousseau," exclaimed Lady Tilney, as soon as she was out of hearing. "She is so inconsÉquente. Did Lady Ellersby name the Baskervilles as being among the invited?" continued Lady Tilney.

"Oh yes, the Comtesse, depend upon it, has taken care they shall be asked; and my Lord is always flattered in being reckoned a requisite appendage to a woman of high rank; but he will soon find his error in depending on her smiles, for except for the gratification of the moment's vanity, she seeks no further aim, and at all times scruples not to sacrifice her Çi-devant friends to her new ones."

"Poor Lord Baskerville," replied Lady Tilney, "was intended to be by nature le bon enfant, which she calls him; but he has fallen into the terrible mistake of thinking himself a leader of ton, which gives him a ridicule that he would not otherwise have."

"How well you read characters, my dear Lady Tilney! But I thought he was a protÉgÉ of yours."

"Oh, so he is; I like him of all things; and he is often vastly useful. One must have different characters at command to fill different parts, or else nothing that one wants would go on. But to return to the Melcombs, I do not recover from my surprise about that marriage."

"It only shews what perseverance will do, I wished to talk the matter over with you, and to ascertain whether or not you meant to attend; so now I need not trouble you longer. Your gown you say is to be rose-colour, mine shall be jonquille."

"Ah, you always look divine in that golden light: but what light do you not look divine in?"

"I must positively run away, or you will quite turn my head with flattery. Adieu, adieu," and they parted well pleased with each other.

When Lady Ellersby stopped at Lady Melcomb's door, where she had intended only to leave her card, a multiplicity of people on the same errand faisoit queue À la porte; but to her infinite dismay, just as her carriage drove up, Lord Glenmore, who happened to be coming out of the door, approached her with a countenance beaming happiness.

"I am sure Georgina will be at home to you; do allow me to hand you out of your carriage."

"Not for the world, I would not intrude; I am sure Miss Melcomb has a thousand things to do, and to arrange; but—"

"Nay, dear Lady Ellersby," continued Lord Glenmore, pressingly (who thought every one must be as anxious to see his bride, as he was eager she should be seen), "Georgina will be so disappointed if you do not go up stairs, that I must entreat you will." And in short, for once, what between curiosity to look at the bridal paraphernalia, and a sort of awkwardness to do a decided thing, and say no, Lady Ellersby's indolence was overcome, and she allowed herself to be handed up stairs into the drawing room, where were assembled a host of ladies (not Miss Melcomb), who were busily engaged admiring the various dresses and finery which were displayed before them.

"You are just come in time, Lady Ellersby," exclaimed Lady Aveling, "for after to-day, nobody is to be admitted."

"No? well, la! I am glad then; but my dear Lady Melcomb I came, I assure you, expressly to wish you joy, and to leave my congratulations also with Miss Melcomb, whom I hope, I am to see, for Lord Glenmore insisted on my coming in, otherwise I would not have done so—knowing how tiresome visitors are at such a moment; but since I am here, do me the favour to mention to Miss Melcomb, how very happy I am to have the opportunity of wishing her joy."

"And do look," cried Lady Aveling, "at this enchanting hat; it is just come from Paris—was there ever any thing de meilleur gÔut?—and then look at this, and that seduisante—really, Lady Melcomb, your selection has been exquisite. But here comes the bride."

Then ensued kisses, curtseys, and congratulations, during which Lord Glenmore retired, wearied with the nonsense of the female coterie, and despairing of even catching a glance from Miss Melcomb.

While the marriage ornaments continued to absorb the attention of the other visitors, Miss Melcomb took Lady Ellersby aside to shew her what, she said, was infinitely better worth looking at—a miniature of Lord Glenmore.

"So, my dear," said Lady Ellersby, "you are really what they call in love? he, he, he!"

"I am fondly attached to Lord Glenmore, and feel proud now in declaring it;—it has become my happy duty," replied Miss Melcomb.

"Duty!" replied Lady Ellersby, opening her mouth, and ouvrant des grands yeux, "he, he, he!—surely you are not serious? Whoever heard a young person going to be married, that is, going to be her own mistress, talk of duty! Tell me, really are you not delighted at the idea of having horses and equipages, and doing exactly what you like, and going out every where you please? That was what I liked and thought of, when I was going to be married, and——but then I was not in love—he, he, he!"

"No?" replied Miss Melcomb, somewhat astonished.

"Certainly not—he, he, he!"

"I have no wish," rejoined Miss Melcomb, "to be more my own mistress than I am at present. I shall, on the contrary, feel myself less at liberty, for of course a married woman has a thousand things to think of which a girl has not."

"La, my dear, you talk in a way which it is very right to teach children, but when people act for themselves they think very differently. Every body, you know, marries to avoid being governed."

"I never could have married for that reason, for I have been the happiest of creatures at home."

"Well really, la! you don't say so! But now you will have an opera box, jewels, equipages, and all sorts of delightful things."

"I don't know—perhaps if Lord Glenmore intends I should—"

"La, how droll you are; you don't really mean to set out by asking his leave, or consulting him on such trifling subjects as these, my dear child, he, he, he! you are enough to spoil any husband.—Well, good morning—you must correct yourself of such enfantillage—remember what I say. Six months will not have elapsed before you recant all this, and change your present mode of thinking and feeling."

Miss Melcomb smiled, and shook her head in token of dissent. "Good morning," Lady Ellersby repeated, "I have already intruded too much upon your time; I shall be delighted to cultivate your society when you come back a gay bride; and pray tell Lady Melcomb I will not torment her any more just now.—Once again accept my congratulations, and my best compliments to Lord Melcomb, he, he, he!"

It is a strange thing that in the happiest of times there is often a word spoken, or a thing occurs, which seems to interpose a dark spot upon the brightness of happiness, as though we were not to forget the nature of mortal felicity. Lady Ellersby's words, of six months will not elapse ere you have changed your present feelings—sounded in Miss Melcomb's ears long after they had been spoken; and though she strove to drive them from her remembrance, they remained fixed there like a warning which she was not to disregard—a foreboding of evil (for to the happy all change has terror in it). Minor circumstances such as this, have happened to every body in their course through life, and have been like visions which opened a vista to futurity.

The day at length came which was to unite Miss Melcomb with Lord Glenmore, and the various persons invited met at Lord Melcomb's house, from whence their carriages followed in the suite of that of the bride's. The ceremony took place in St. James's Chapel, and it was a beautiful sight to see the bride, with composed bashfulness, in the long white robe and coronal that bound her veiled brows, so fitly emblematic of her own purity, supported by her father to the altar, and given from the paternal arms into those of a husband, who was henceforth to be all the world to her, and whom she acknowledged to be lord of her affections in the seriousness of true and deep attachment, as the chosen of her heart. Her velvet prayer book in one hand—the other folding her veil across her person, which it but partially concealed, she knelt down in that spirit of piety which hallows and sanctifies the vows she was about to take. The previous tremor which had shook her frame as she advanced to the altar, was stilled into composure as she bent the knee, and raised her thoughts to heaven.

Lord Glenmore, too, seemed imbued with the same devout feelings, and all those who came with lighter thoughts, appeared, outwardly at least, impressed.

When the ceremony closed, the now Lady Glenmore knelt before her parents, and as they pressed her to their breast, blessed her with silent fervour; and even the most insensible acknowledged a touch of feeling at this scene. Lady De Chere was heard to say, that she had no idea it would be made such a serious affair of; had she known it, she certainly would not have been present. Congratulations having been offered on every side, some with sincere goodwill, but the greater part with common-place phrase; the marriage party returned to Lady Melcomb's, where a breakfast had been prepared.

"What a mÉlange of persons!" observed Lady Ellersby, as she stopped in the door-way on entering, in order to reconnoitre. "If I had not been obliged" (she whispered to Lady Tilney), "nothing should have brought me here."

"And I most indubitably should not have come," replied the latter, "had it not been to oblige you; and after all I would have given a great deal that I had not: for I assure you, my dear, as soon as the affair of the day is over, we must none of us be seen here again; what we may do respecting Lord and Lady Glenmore, reste a savoir. But yonder is Lady Baskerville and Lady Tenderden, let us join them, and by keeping as much as possible together, and talking to no one but in our own circle, shew that we are not here even at present on familiar footing." Lady Baskerville was conversing with Lady Tenderden on one of those square Ottomans dos-a-dos, with their several cavaliers by them, Lord Tonnerre, Lord Gascoigne, Lord Boileau, &c.

"Well I am sure," said Lady Baskerville, addressing Lord Boileau, "if I were Lady Glenmore, I should heartily wish all this Étiquette de noces was over; when a marriage has taken place, and it is known to all the world, the amusement is ended, and there is nothing to be wished for, but the comfortable arrangement of two sensible persons, who know what it is to live without being a charge to each other."

"To be sure," replied Lord Boileau, "I wonder how people can make this sort of fuss and Étalage; it is assuming that one is interested for them—nobody cares whether any body is happy or miserable, and it is a bad taste to affichÉ their private feelings in this public manner."

At this moment a general movement in one of the apartments attracted every body's attention.—"Lord Melcomb is dead!" "Lord Melcomb is dying!" resounded in audible whispers.

"Call my carriage."—"How shocking."—"I would not be in the room with a corpse for the world."—"Do let us get away."

"Who knows but it may be catching—how fortunate for Glenmore," said Lord Boileau, looking over the people's heads, as he beheld Lord Melcomb apparently lifeless. "He will have the pretty heiress and her fortune at the same moment."

"What do you mean?" asked some one who stood near.

"Why, only if the old Lord dies, that Miss Melcomb becomes immediate mistress of Melcomb Park, and an estate of ten thousand a year."

"Does she! you do not mean so; had I known that, I would have proposed to the girl myself," said Lord Tonnerre.

"But is he really in an apoplectic fit?" said another.

"Perhaps, but sometimes people do outlive these sort of things, and walk about quite gaily many years."

"Ah! there is that chance to be sure," said Lady Baskerville, laughing. It is lamentable to remark, how those who live in fashion's fooleries become actually indifferent to every thing, and to every circumstance, of what mighty moment soever, that does not immediately concern their interests and pleasures. The most tremendous events, the most awful dispensations, the most surprising occurrences are to them so many little coloured bubbles, that seem to blow about for their amusement, or targets set up to shoot jokes at. Life and death seem but as foot-balls for these puppets to play with: it would be laughable if it were not horrible.

Lord Melcomb had only a fainting fit, occasioned by over fatigue, and the heat of the room. The brilliant crowd, however, which were assembled at his house, fled in dismay on the first alarm of sickness or of sorrow; and their inquiries the next day for his health, were influenced more by curiosity, than by any feeling of humanity, or any real care whether he were alive or dead. This event, however, had a very different effect on the minds of Lord Melcomb's sincere friends, who waited with anxiety to learn the effects of this sudden illness. On Lady Glenmore's mind it cast a cloud, which seemed to overshadow the bright dawning of her happiness; and she trembled at the idea of some unknown calamity, an idea which had once before visited her, when called up by Lady Ellersby's words, and which now again recurred to her with painful intenseness. A short hour, however, relieved every one from anxiety; Lord Melcomb was completely restored, and he received the embraces of his child: when kissing away the tears, which she could not restrain, he entreated her to lay aside all fears on his account. Once more the bridal pair received the parental blessing; and taking leave of the few dear friends that surrounded them, stepped into their carriage and set off for Lord Glenmore's villa, where after remaining a short time, and feeling quite reassured on Lord Melcomb's account, they proceeded on a tour to Paris.