"Put out some of the candles."
"No, no, my dear," rejoined one of the young ladies engaged in dressing
her; "we cannot sacrifice a candle. We don't need them to discern your
charms, Em; only to enable us to discover how to deck them to the best
advantage. How sweet you look!"
Emily gazed into the mirror; and from the blush that suffused her face and
the look of complacency that followed, it was quite evident that she shared
her friend's opinion. She did, indeed, look charming. There was a deeper
colour than usual on her cheeks, and her eyes were illumined with a soft,
tender light. Her wavy brown hair was parted smoothly on the front, and
gathered into a cluster of curls at the back. Around her neck glistened a
string of pearls, a present from Mr. Winston, who had just returned from
South America. The pure white silk fitted to a nicety, and the tiny satin
slippers seemed as if they were made upon her feet, and never intended to
come off again. Her costume was complete, with the exception of the veil
and wreath, and Esther opened the box that she supposed contained them, for
the purpose of arranging them on the bride.
"Where have you put the veil, my dear?" she asked, after raising the lid of
the box, and discovering that they were not there.
Pages:
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528