The question Edith had asked herself, standing by her chamber
window, was answered by Grace Atherton sitting near her own. "Yes,
the bride of Richard Harrington MUST be perfectly happy, if bride
indeed there were." She was beginning to feel some doubt upon this
point, for strain her eyes as she might, she had not been able to
detect the least signs of femininity in the passing carriage, and
hope whispered that the brightest dream she had ever dreamed might
yet be realized.

"I'll let him know to-morrow, that I'm here," she said, as she
shook out her wavy auburn hair, and thought, with a glow of pride,
how beautiful it was. "I'll send Edith with my compliments and a
bouquet of flowers to the bride. She'll deliver them better than
any one else, if I can once make her understand what I wish her to
do."

Accordingly, the next morning, as Edith sat upon the steps of the
kitchen door, talking to herself, Grace appeared before her with a
tastefully arranged bouquet, which she bade her take with her
compliments to Mrs. Richard Harrington, if there was such a body,
and to Mr. Richard Harrington if there were not.

"Do you understand?" she asked, and Edith far more interested in
her visit to Collingwood than in what she was to do when she
reached there, replied,

"Of course I do; I'm to give your compliments;" and she jammed her
hand into the pocket of her gingham apron, as if to make sure the
compliments were there. "I'm to give them to MR. Richard, if there
is one, and the flowers to Mrs. Richard, if there ain't!"