yet lingered in the smile around her mouth, and never did blush deepen with softer carnation. There was something so timid, yet so imploring, in her look of deep and conscious happiness, it was as if she entreated Fate to forgive it.
"I cannot blame you," said Mrs. Palmer, in answer to Helen's deprecating whisper of explanation; "Louisa well deserves your affection, but pray tell your mother as soon as possible."
"Oh, we dare not!" cried Georgiana.
"I will tell her," said Helen, in a low voice; "kind friends as you all are, Louisa would have felt so lonely without her sisters!"
The ceremony was soon over; but, to Charlotte's great distress, the two girls did not stay: and Mrs. Palmer's carriage took them back to the end of their own street. It was well that their parting was hurried for Louisa's sake, whose eyes filled with tears when she thought it might be long before they met again. Despite Mr. and Mrs. Gooch's good spirits, who saw nothing to be unhappy about, the breakfast was silent, and somewhat sad—a wedding breakfast always is; nay, the very happiest are most likely to wear a serious seeming; as Victor Hugo beautifully says:—
"le bonheur est chose grâve,
Elle vent de cœurs de bronze, et lentement se grave,
Le plaisir l’effarouche en lui jêttant des fleurs
Et son sourire est moins pres des rires que des pleurs."
