Madame Belmarche had arisen to receive the guests with her dignified courtesy and heartfelt felicitations, which were not over when Genevieve tripped in, all freshness and grace, with her neat little collar, and the dainty black apron that so prettily marked her slender waist.  One moment, and she had arranged a resting-place for Sophy, and as she understood Gilbert’s errand, quickly produced from a corner-cupboard a plate, on which he handed it to the two other ladies, who meanwhile paid their compliments in the most perfect style.

The history of the morning was discussed, and Madame Belmarche described her sister’s wedding, and the curiosity which she had shared with the bride for the first sight of ‘le futur,’ when the two sisters had been brought from their convent for the marriage.

‘But how could she get to like him?’ cried Sophy.

’My sister was too well brought up a young girl to acknowledge a preference,’ replied Madame Belmarche.  ’Ah! my dear, you are English; you do not understand these things.’

‘No,’ said Sophy, ’I can’t understand how people can marry without loving.  How miserable they must be!’

’On the contrary, my dear, especially if one continued to live with one’s mother.  It is far better to earn the friendship and esteem of a husband than to see his love grow cold.’

‘And was your sister happy?’ asked Sophy, abruptly.

’Ah, my dear, never were husband and wife more attached.  My brother-in-law joined the army of the Prince de Conde, and never was seen after the day of Valmy; and my sister pined away and died of grief.  My daughter and granddaughter go to the Catholic burying-ground at Hadminster on her fete day, to dress her grave with immortelles.’

Now Sophy knew why the strip of garden grew so many of the grey-leaved, woolly-stemmed, little yellow-and-white everlasting flowers.  Good madame began to regret having saddened her on this day of joy.

‘Oh! no,’ said Sophy, ‘I like sad things best.’

‘Mais, non, my child, that is not the way to go through life,’ said the old lady, affectionately.  ’Look at me; how could I have lived had I not always turned to the bright side?  Do not think of sorrow, it, is always near enough.’

This conversation had made an impression on Sophy, who took the first opportunity of expressing her indignation at the system of mariages de convenance.

’And, mamma, she said if people began with love, it always grew cold.  Now, has not papa loved you better and better every day?’

Albinia could not be displeased, though it made her blush, and she could not answer such a home push.  ’We don’t quite mean the same things,’ she said evasively.  ’Madame is thinking of passion independent of esteem or confidence.  But, Sophy, this is enough even for a wedding-day.  Let us leave it off with our finery, and resume daily life.’

‘Only tell me one thing, mamma.’