Jewel Weed

Sometimes Lena wished that she had been given a lump sum and allowed to

browse alone, for she felt her taste pruned and pinioned by the very

presence of Miss Elton, who, though she never ventured to criticize, had

yet a depressing influence on Lena's exuberant fancies.

Once, after such a silent sacrifice on her part, Madeline and she drove

up to the Percivals' for five-o'clock tea. Her future mother-in-law was

in the accustomed seat, and Lena found a footstool near at hand, with a

pretty air of affectionate proprietorship that brought a glow to Dick's

face.

"Yes," said Lena with a charming pout, "I'm utterly played out, getting

myself ready for your approval, sir."

"Poor little girl," he whispered. "If you only knew what an easy task

that ought to be!"

"I'm so glad Madeline can go with you," Mrs. Percival said, patting the

girl's hand approvingly. "I always think she has such perfect taste.

Some people get fine clothes and then make an heroic effort to live up

to them, but Madeline has the supreme gift of managing clothes that seem

a part of herself."

It is impossible to tell how a speech like this rankled in Lena.

Sometimes she had a wild impulse to stand up and stamp and scream out,

"I hate the whole lot of you!" but she never did. She kept on smiling

and purring and longing for the freedom which would come when she was

safely married, had passed her initiation ceremonies, and could command

her own money.

But it was wonderful what a fascination she felt for everything that

concerned Miss Elton. Every act, every garment, every inflection of the

girl she hated most was interesting to her. She watched Madeline like a

cat, and disliked her more and more.

At length came the new year, and the day when Lena sat in a carriage by

Dick's side and was whirled away on that journey that was to take her

out of the old and into the new. Her hour-old husband looked at her with

an expression half-quizzical, half-adoring as she sat back and glanced

up with a heartfelt sigh, secure at last of her position as the wife of

Richard Percival. Until this moment she had never wholly believed it.

"I'm glad the wedding's over," she said.

"And I. More glad that our married life has begun. Lena, Lena, how

beautiful you are! When you came down the aisle, I hardly dared to look

at you; and yet it seems to me now that you are more lovely here alone

with me. I should think God would have been afraid to make such eyes and

lips and hair, sweetheart, knowing that He could never surpass them."

He softly touched the little curl that crept out from below her hat and

kissed the upturned mouth in that ecstasy that borders on awe.