’Twas thus that Miss Gresham spoke of her match to her dear friends, her cousins the De Courcys for instance, to Miss Oriel, her sister Beatrice, and even to Mary Thorne.  She had no enthusiasm, she admitted, but she thought she had good judgment.  She thought she had shown good judgment in accepting Mr Moffat’s offer, though she did not pretend to any romance of affection.  And, having so said, she went to work with considerable mental satisfaction, choosing furniture, carriages, and clothes, not extravagantly as her mother would have done, not in deference to sterner dictates of the latest fashion as her aunt would have done, with none of the girlish glee in new purchases which Beatrice would have felt, but with sound judgment.  She bought things that were rich, for her husband was to be rich, and she meant to avail herself of his wealth; she bought things that were fashionable, for she meant to live in the fashionable world; but she bought what was good, and strong, and lasting, and worth its money.

Augusta Gresham had perceived early in life that she could not obtain success either as an heiress, or as a beauty, nor could she shine as a wit; she therefore fell back on such qualities as she had, and determined to win the world as a strong-minded, useful woman.  That which she had of her own was blood; having that, she would in all ways do what in her lay to enhance its value.  Had she not possessed it, it would to her mind have been the vainest of pretences.

When Mary came in, the wedding preparations were being discussed.  The number and names of the bridesmaids were being settled, the dresses were on the tapis, the invitations to be given were talked over.  Sensible as Augusta was, she was not above such feminine cares; she was, indeed, rather anxious that the wedding should go off well.  She was a little ashamed of her tailor’s son, and therefore anxious that things should be as brilliant as possible.

The bridesmaid’s names had just been written on a card as Mary entered the room.  There were the Ladies Amelia, Rosina, Margaretta, and Alexandrina of course at the head of it; then came Beatrice and the twins; then Miss Oriel, who, though only a parson’s sister, was a person of note, birth and fortune.  After this there had been here a great discussion whether or not there should be any more.  If there were to be one more there must be two.  Now Miss Moffat had expressed a direct wish, and Augusta, though she would much rather have done without her, hardly knew how to refuse.  Alexandrina—­we hope we may be allowed to drop the ‘lady’ for the sake of brevity, for the present scene only—­was dead against such an unreasonable request.  ’We none of us know her, you know; and it would not be comfortable.’  Beatrice strongly advocated the future sister-in-law’s acceptance into the bevy; she had her own reasons; she was pained that Mary Thorne should not be among the number, and if Miss Moffat were accepted, perhaps Mary might be brought in as her colleague.