A day that ushered in the full glory of the spring.  All the flowers were blooming at once, at noon the air was hot and still, not a leaf stirred.  Before Susan had finished her late breakfast Billy arrived; there was talk of tickets and train time before she went upstairs.  Mary Lou had come early to watch the bride dress; good, homely, happy Miss Lydia Lord must run up to Susan’s room too,—­the room was full of women.  Isabel Furlong was throned in the big chair, John was to take her away before the wedding, but she wanted to kiss Susan in her wedding gown.

Susan presently saw a lovely bride, smiling in the depths of the mirror, and was glad for Billy’s sake that she looked “nice.”  Tall and straight, with sky-blue eyes shining under a crown of bright hair, with the new corsets setting off the lovely gown to perfection, her mother’s lace at her throat and wrists, and the rose-wreathed hat matching her cheeks, she looked the young and happy woman she was, stepping bravely into the world of loving and suffering.

The pretty gown must be gathered up safely for the little walk to church.  “Are we all ready?” asked Susan, running concerned eyes over the group.

“Don’t worry about us!” said Philip.  “You’re the whole show to-day!”

In a dream they were walking through the fragrant roads, in a dream they entered the unpretentious little church, and were questioned by the small Spanish sexton at the door.  No, that was Miss Carroll,—­ this was Miss Brown.  Yes, everyone was here.  The groom and his best man had gone in the other door.  Who would give away the bride?  This gentleman, Mr. Eastman, who was just now standing very erect and offering her his arm.  Susan Ralston Brown—­William Jerome Oliver—­ quite right.  But they must wait a moment; the sexton must go around by the vestry for some last errand.

The little organ wheezed forth a march; Susan walked slowly at Ferd Eastman’s side,—­stopped,—­and heard a rich Italian voice asking questions in a free and kindly whisper.  The gentleman this side—­and the lady here—­so!

The voice suddenly boomed out loud and clear and rapid.  Susan knew that this was Billy beside her, but she could not raise her eyes.  She studied the pattern that fell on the red altar-carpet through a sun-flooded window.  She told herself that she must think now seriously; she was getting married.  This was one of the great moments of her life.

She raised her head, looked seriously into the kind old face so near her, glanced at Billy, who was very pale.

“I will,” said Susan, clearing her throat.  She reflected in a panic that she had not been ready for the question, and wondered vaguely if that invalidated her marriage, in the eyes of Heaven at least.  Getting married seemed a very casual and brief matter.  Susan wished that there was more form to it; pages, and heralds with horns, and processions.  What an awful carpet this red one must be to sweep, showing every speck!  She and Billy had painted their floors, and would use rugs—–­