d that she must dress it exactly like Kate's and make
herself look as nearly as possible as Kate would have looked,--all drove
sadness from her mind and she began to taste a little delight in the
pretty clothes, the great occasion, and her own importance. The vision in
the looking-glass, too, told her that her own face was winsome, and the
new array not unbecoming. Something of this she had seen the night before
when she put on her new chintz; now the change was complete, as she stood
in the white satin and lace with the string of seed pearls that had been
her mother's tied about her soft white throat. She thought about the
tradition of the pearls that Kate's girl friends had laughingly reminded
her of a few days before when they were looking at the bridal garments.
They had said that each pearl a bride wore meant a tear she would shed.
She wondered if Kate had escaped the tears with the pearls, and left them
for her.

She was ready at last, even to the veil that had been her mother's, and
her mother's mother's before her. It fell in its rich folds, yellowed by
age, from her head to her feet, with its creamy frost-work of rarest
handiwork, transforming the girl into a woman and a bride.

Madam Schuyler arranged and rearranged the folds, and finally stood back
to look with half-closed eyes at the effect, deciding that very few would
notice that the bride was other than they had expected until the ceremony
was over and the veil thrown back. The sisters had never looked alike, yet
there was a general family resemblance that was now accentuated by the
dress; perhaps only those nearest would notice that it was Marcia instead
of Kate. At least the guests would have the good grace to keep their
wonderment to themselves until the ceremony was over.

Then Marcia was left to herself with trembling hands and wildly throbbing
heart. What would Mary Ann think! What would all the girls and boys think?
Some of them would be there, and others would be standing along the shady
streets to watch the progress of the carriage as it drove away. And they
would see her going away instead of Kate. Perhaps they would think it all
a great joke and that she had been going to be married all the time and
not Kate. But no; the truth would soon come out. People would not be
astonished at anything Kate did. They would only say it was just what they
had all along expected of her, and pity her father, and pity her perhaps.
But they would look at her and