Excerpt: "It is Lauraine Douglas' wedding-day. A delicious gleam of sunshine streams through the curtained windows—flickers over the dainty arrangements of the toilet-table, loses itself in the white wonders of lace, linen, and embroidery strewed about in different directions, and finally wanders to a dusky head on the pillows, and plays at hide and seek over the closed eyelids of a very lovely face. The eyelids open—quite suddenly, quite wakefully—not with any half-and-half preparation—any symptom of sleepiness. The inquisitive sunbeam has done its work, and retreats bashfully now as two white arms are thrown suddenly up and placed beneath the girl's head, and resting thus she takes a survey of the mysterious garments, the pretty room, the aspect of the weather, as promised by the wealth of prodigal sunlight, and, finally, the clock on the opposite chimney-piece. "My wedding-day!"—so ran her thoughts."