well the fuss and flurry are all over—they are married, aunt gwendolin and count de pensier. i cannot do better than copy a paragraph out of the newspaper to describe the doings:
"the church was beautifully decorated with azaleas, palms, orchids; tall white wands supporting sheaves of palms stood at each aisle. the walls of the church were festooned with green wreathing. the bride was given away by her brother, theodore morgan, esq. she looked exceedingly handsome in an exquisite gown of heavy, ivory-white satin, with panel of filet lace, seeded with pearls. the long train was trimmed with lace and pearl seeding. with this was worn a costly lace veil, caught to her titian hair with a chaplet of orange blossoms, and she carried a shower bouquet of bridal roses.
"the six bridesmaids were gowned in ivory taffeta silk, wearing picture hats; and each carried an immense bouquet of bride's-maid's roses."
as is usual at american functions, the men did not seem to be of enough importance to mention anything more than their bare names.
it all took place in christ's church. was he there? grandmother says he is back in this world now in spirit. what did he think of it all?
"grandmother," i said when it was all over—the church display, the reception, the eating and drinking, the dressing—"if i am ever married let it be in china."
"my dear child," said grandmother in alarm, "why do you make such a wild request as that?"
"seated at a table the bride is offered a tiny cup of wine," i replied, "of which she takes a sip, while the bridegroom in a seat opposite her also sips from a similar cup of wine. the cups are then exchanged, and again tasted, and the marriage service is completed. they have time to think about each other, instead of thinking of what a grand show they are making for the world."
grandmother looked at me in silence a few moments, then she said:
"your grandfather and i were married quietly in our own little home parlour. i was dressed in white muslin, and your grandfather in corduroy. we were thinking more about each other than anything else, my dear."
the bride and groom, count and countess de pensier, started at once for the ancestral home in sunny france, i suppose to begin regilding the tarnished title uncle theodore spoke about.
oh, be joyful! i shall not have to go to the "fashionable boarding school" any more! i shall not have to appear at a "coming out party!" i shall never come out now; i shall always stay in! grandmother says i may stay in if i want to, and i do want to. i shall never have to steal out the back door in grandmother's clothes any more, sing any more foreign songs, or pretend i am spanish! it is lovely to be able to act the truth! "it is an ill wind that blows nobody good." (this last is one of grandmother's familiar sayings.)
cousin ned has lost one of his eyes! got it knocked out at the last "play."
