"Whither flies love, ah! where the purple bloom?" gone never to return; an illusion destroyed is destroyed for ever; and what is love but an illusion? poor basis for the happiness of many years: the heart that trusts to its shelter, builds its house upon the sands. Still, there is no rule without an exception, and Mr. Gooch might be right when he drank a glass of pink champagne "to the health and happiness of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Penrhyn." The next day Lady Anne received the Morning Post, with Lady Penrhyn's kind compliments, and a pencil mark at the following announcement.
"Yesterday, at St. Giles's, Bloomsbury, Charles Penrhyn, only son of the late Charles Penrhyn, of Penrhynhurst, to Louisa, second daughter of the late Edward Granard, Esq." The paper fell from Lady Anne's hand. "To think," cried she, in the low, deep tone of horror, amounting to awe, "that a daughter of mine has been married at St. Giles's, Bloomsbury."
