And with the gladsome hour came the bride.
None of us will ever forget her. Not only was she a vision of rare
loveliness, but there was in her every glance and movement that
stateliness and grace that poise and sureness of herself that
marks the high-born woman the world over when she finds herself
the cynosure of all eyes.
All who saw her descend Miss Felicia's stairs held their breath in
adoration: Not a flight of steps at all. but a Jacob's ladder down
which floated a company of angels in pink and ivory--one all in
white, her lovely head crowned by a film of old lace in which
nestled a single rose.
On she came--slowly--proudly--her slippered feet touching the
carpeted steps as daintily as treads a fawn; her gown crinkling
into folds of silver about her knees, one fair hand lost in a mist
of gauze, the other holding the blossoms which Jack had pressed to
his lips--until she reached her father's side.
"Dear daddy," I heard her whisper as she patted his sleeve with
her fingers.
Ah! but it was a proud day for MacFarlane.
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