It was quite a picture as Mrs. Murden entered it. The lounges spread with dresses that surpassed her imagination. Two bonnets, all lace and flowers, the frame seeming only intended to support them, were on stands in one corner, and wreaths, gloves, ribbons, and embroideries made up the graceful confusion. Miss Stringer was on her knees before a large deal box, folding and packing these wonderful creations.
"A bridal order," she said, "for the South. Look around, if you would like to."
Mrs. Murden would not have touched any of them for a kingdom; it seemed as if a breath would soil the gossamer-like evening-dresses, with their light garlands of flowers. A velvet robe fit for a queen, destined for the mother of the bride; a morning-dress of French cambric embroidery, over a violet-colored silk; flounced dresses, with borders of woven embroidery, in the most delicate contrasting shade; glove-knots, shoulder-knots, breast-knots, of ribbon and gold lace, were some of the items of this costly _trousseau_.
The cherished purple silk faded, as if it had been exposed to a summer sun, in Mrs. Murden's eyes. It looked so very "_common_"--to think of a two dollar silk being common--beside those brocades and flounced taffetas, when it came to be tried on; and then the prices dealt out in the most amiable manner by Miss Stringer conscious that she had made a good thing of it.
The velvet had cost a hundred dollars "before scissors had touched it." The lace on the skirt of the bridal-dress was seventy-five dollars a yard; the morning-dress was a robe imported, of course, at sixty dollars; and so on to the ermine-bordered mantle, at four hundred and fifty.
Mrs. Murden asked when her dress would be sent home, as she resumed her bonnet and cloak. She had lost nearly all interest in it, as Miss Stringer pulled and puckered, let out, and let in, the nicely fitting basque. It was not lost, perhaps, but swallowed up for the time in the contemplation of so much elegance, which, come what would, she could never hope to attain. And she colored, we grieve to record it, as she gave the lynx-eyed Miss Elbert her address, so far away from the fashionable quarter. Perhaps she saw the glance exchanged with Miss Replier as it was named.