knew that the eldest Miss Beauchamp was
seventeen, and very pretty, only one shoulder was higher than the other;
that she was dotingly fond of dancing, and talked a great deal in a _tete-
a-tete_, but not much if her mamma was by, and never opened her lips at
all if the dean was in the room; that the next sister was wonderfully
clever, and was supposed to know all the governess could teach her, and
to have private lessons in Greek and mathematics from her father; and so
on down to the little boy at the preparatory school and the baby-girl in
arms. Moreover, Miss Monro, at any rate, could have stood an examination
as to the number of servants at the deanery, their division of work, and
the hours of their meals. Presently, a very beautiful, haughty-looking
young lady made her appearance in the Close, and in the dean's pew. She
was said to be his niece, the orphan daughter of his brother, General
Beauchamp, come to East Chester to reside for the necessary time before
her marriage, which was to be performed in the cathedral by her uncle,
the new dignitary. But as callers at the deanery did not see this
beautiful bride elect, and as the Beauchamps had not as yet fallen into
habits of intimacy with any of their new acquaintances, very little was
known of the circumstances of this approaching wedding beyond the
particulars given above.

Ellinor and Miss Monro sat at their drawing-room window, a little shaded
by the muslin curtains, watching the busy preparations for the marriage,
which was to take place the next day. All morning long, hampers of fruit
and flowers, boxes from the railway--for by this time East Chester had
got a railway--shop messengers, hired assistants, kept passing backwards
and forwards in the busy Close. Towards afternoon the bustle subsided,
the scaffolding was up, the materials for the next day's feast carried
out of sight. It was to be concluded that the bride elect was seeing to
the packing of her trousseau, helped by the merry multitude of cousins,
and that the servants were arranging the dinner for the day, or the
breakfast for the morrow. So Miss Monro had settled it, discussing every
detail and every probability as though she were a chief actor, instead of
only a distant, uncared-for spectator of the coming event. Ellinor was
tired, and now that there was nothing interesting going on, she had
fallen back to her sewing, when she was startled by Miss Memo's
exclamation:

"Look, look! here ar