The marriage of Delia Floyd was an event in our quiet town.

It was celebrated at the house of her father, in the presence of a large company, who were invited to witness the ceremony, and take part in the attendant festivities.

The match was regarded generally as a most desirable one for the young lady; and there was more than one mother present who envied the good fortune which had given such a son-in-law to Mrs.Floyd.I heard many snatches of conversation, half aside, in which marvelous things were related, or suggested, touching the bridegroom's fortune and the splendid home he had prepared for his bride.

He was looked upon as a prospective millionaire, and imagination pictured Delia as the jeweled mistress of a palace home.

Few seemed to think of any thing beyond the promised worldly advantage.
"I am glad that your daughter has married so well." "Let me congratulate you, Squire Floyd, on this splendid match." "It is not often, Mrs.Floyd, that a mother sees her daughter go forth into the world with such brilliant prospects." "You have all that your heart can desire, so far as Delia is concerned, Mrs.Floyd." "You are the envy of mothers." And so I heard the changes rung on all sides of me, and from the lips of people who might have looked deeper if they had taken the trouble to use their eyes.
To me, the wedding was full of sad suggestions.