19. CHAPTER XIX.
HOW SHE WORE THE WHITE SILK AFTER ALL.
Sally had never looked prettier than at this moment
She was clad in the famous silk, whose history the reader
has heard at so much length, and it now appeared that
Nina Lyttelton's counsel had carried the day—for the
dress was low-necked. The rich silk undulating as she
moved, fairly dazzled the eye—and had not Sally on that
morning withdrawn herself solemnly from the list of
mountain belles, we can not estimate the number of
enemies she must have made. In her hair some white
lingering autumn flowers clustered together, spreading
around her as she came, a faint delight—and, not to
elaborate what we feel to be a most poor and inadequate
description, this young lady whom we have promoted to
the post of heroine, in one word, so overcame all hearts—
including of course those youths who would have died for
her before—that many felt thereafter (for a month or two)
that life had lost all charm for them; that all their happiness
was merest shadow, existence but a dream, and
that unhappy; the world no longer bright since she, the
“darling” of all hearts had gone from them; “gone and
got married,” as they said, and so was lost forever!
But unconscious of the many hearts she was breaking,
the young girl came on, attended by her bridemaids—
and at her side walked Barry, proud and happy. Around
him were gathered also the attentive groomsmen in their
snowy aprons; and soon the ceremony was commenced
and ended;—and Sally, blushing like a rose, received the
thousand gratulations, kisses, and wishes for her happiness,
customary on such occasions.
When all had pledged the new-married pair in the
contents of the great punch bowl, the broad table was
drawn out, and those white-aproned gentlemen we have
mentioned, hastened to the next room—temporarily the
kitchen. Thence they filed in with the great hissing
dishes, and having placed the profuse meal, as was their
duty, on the board, they sat down with the rest, and the
feast commenced.
