bride's residence on Westbourne Terrace, where the wedding breakfast
awaited.

There were now no decorated halls and drawing-rooms, no bands of music,
no display of splendid bridal presents, no parade whatever.

To be sure, an elegant breakfast-table was laid for the guests. It was
decorated only with fragrant white flowers from the home conservatory,
furnished with white Sevres china and silver, and provided with a
luxurious and dainty repast. That was all. All magnificence and splendor
of display was carefully avoided in the feast as in the ceremony.

Only ten in all sat down to the table, viz., the bride and bridegroom,
two bridesmaids, two groomsmen, Lady Belgrade, Baron Von Levison, the
Bishop of London, and the Rector of St. George's.

A graver wedding party never was brought together. Even the youthful
bridesmaids and groomsmen, expected to be "the life of the company," were
awed into silence by the preponderance of age and clerical dignity in the
little assembly, for the bishop was not ready with his usual harmless
little jest, and the rector did not care to take precedence over his
superior.

The conversation was serious rather than merry, and the speeches earnest
rather than witty.

Near the end of the breakfast, the bride's health was proposed by the
first groomsman in a complimentary speech, which was acknowledged in a
few appropriate remarks by her nearest relative, the Baron Von Levison.
The bridegroom's health was then proposed by the baron, and acknowledged
by a deep and silent bow from the duke.

Then the health of the bridesmaids, the clergy, Lady Belgrade, and the
Baron Von Levison were duly honored.

And then the young bride arose, courtesied to her guests, and attended by
her bridesmaids, retired to change her wedding dress for a traveling
suit.

"How deadly pale she looks! Is my niece really happy in this marriage?"
inquired the Baron Von Levison, in a low tone, of Lady Belgrade, as the
guests left the table.

"She is very happy in this marriage, which she has set her heart on for
years. In a word, this young wife is madly in love with her husband. But
you must consider what an awful shock she had on her first appointed
wedding-day, and how it must recur to her mind in this," answered the
dowager.

"Ah, to be sure! to be sure! poor child! poor child!" muttered the German
head of the family.

Meanwhile the young Duchess of Hereward reached her apartments.

Her dresser, Margaret, wa