Man and Maid

I am not going to describe the wedding in this Journal. A civil ceremony

is not interesting in its baldness. I had literally no emotions, and

Alathea looked as pale as her white frock. She wore a little sable toque

and a big sable cloak I had sent her the night before, by Nelson. The

ring was the new diamond hoop set in platinum. No more gold fetters for

modern girls!

Old George and Mr. Nelson were our witnesses, and the whole thing was

over in a few minutes, and we were being congratulated. Burton was by

far the happiest face there, as he helped me into the automobile, lent

by the Embassy. Alathea had just shaken hands with Mr. Nelson and been

wished joy by George. I wonder what he thought of the glasses, which

even for the wedding she had not taken off!

"May you know every happiness, Lady Thormonde," he said. "Take care of

Nicholas and make him quite well, he is the best fellow on earth."

Alathea thanked him coldly. He is such a citizen of the world that he

showed no surprise, and finally we were off on our way to the flat.

Here Madame Bizot and her daughter, and the baby, awaited us! And in the

creature's tiny hand was a bunch of violets. This was the first time

Alathea smiled. She bent and kissed the wee face. These people know and

love her. I stayed behind a few moments to express my substantial

appreciation of their friendly interest. Burton had been beside the

chauffeur to help me in and out, and while we had been driving Alathea

had not spoken a word. She had turned from me, and her little body was

drawn back as far in the corner as possible.

My own emotions were queer. I did not feel actually excited. I felt just

as I used when we were going to take up a new position on the line where

great watchfulness would be necessary to succeed.

The maid Alathea had engaged arrived in the morning, and I had had the

loveliest flowers put in all the rooms. Pierre intended to outdo himself

for the wedding déjeuner, I knew, and Burton had been able to find

somewhere a really respectable looking footman, not too obviously

wounded.

Alathea handed me my crutch as we got out of the lift. Perhaps she

thinks this is going to be one of her new duties!

We went straight into the sitting-room and I sat down in my chair. Her

maid, named Henriette, had taken her cloak and hat in the hall, and I

suppose from sheer nervousness, and to cover the first awkward moments,

Alathea buried her face in the big bowl of roses on a table near another

arm chair, before she sat down in it.