Young and old were dressed in their gayest apparel; and it was evident from the smiles that lighted up every countenance, from the roguish looks of the younger swains, and the demure expression of several pretty rustic maidens, that a ceremony, which never fails to interest all classes,—a wedding,—was about to take place. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression. She was acquiring truths, but in a series of shocks rather than by the process of analysis. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. “Nigel is like all men,” Lady Lescelles continued.
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