Mr Horatio Simpson was a young man very much adorned with chains, rings, studs, and black curls.  He had, moreover, a very fine waistcoat, and was altogether well fitted by his tailor.  His face was not unlike that of an otter.  He used grand words when he spoke, but did not tire his companions by quite as voluble a tongue as did his mother.  He was one of those fine gentlemen who would, or could neither plod nor dash at his studies, and who was quite willing to take all his knowledge second hand from any one who would kindly impart it.

Captain Dancy was so entirely his devoted friend, that he gladly gave him the advantage of his superior parts, in return for various favours which Miss Simpson also aided in conferring.

Captain Dancy is a tall, fashionable-looking man, with what Miss Simpson and her mamma consider a splendid figure.  ‘And such a lovely moustache!’ Miss Simpson usually adds with a sigh.  The moustache and hair are, however, inclined to red, and the face within them is not unlike that of a fox.  Perhaps some of his friends might be surprised if they found him in the present company; but he would do anything to oblige Simpson and Jenkins, who are, in turn, always at his service, in more ways than one.

After a little preliminary conversation, Mr Simpson offers Netta his arm; and followed by the rest of the bridal party, leads the way downstairs.  A smart little liveried page is at the door, and two fine carriages are in the street, each with its horses and coachman ornamented with bridal favours.

‘We cannot make all our arrangements’ as I could wish, whispers Howel to Miss Simpson, ’owing to circumstances; or I should have met you at the church from another house.’

Netta, Mr Simpson, and the two ladies are in the first carriage, which soon arrives at St James’s Church, followed by the other.  How the bouquet in Netta’s hand trembles, as she takes Mr Simpson’s arm, and walks with him up the steps, and finally through the centre aisle to the altar!  She has never been in a London church before, and the varied colours of that magnificent painted window strike her with wonder even now.

Netta turns very pale as she stands by the altar, and waits until Howel comes up.  Sir John whispers some kindly words, which so forcibly remind her of her father, that she can scarcely repress her tears.  She glances at Howel, as he stands opposite, gazing at her, and sees that his handsome face is calm and determined.  He smiles as she looks at him, which reassures her.  A prettier bride could never stand before an altar; Howel feels this and is satisfied.  And Netta has loved her cousin all her life, and thinks him perfect.  She can truly say that she leaves father, mother, all for him.

And these are the feelings with which they receive the first words of the earnest-spoken grey-haired priest, who tells them that they are assembled in the sight of God, to be joined indissolubly together.