The Honeymoon

The first months of winter were full of excitement to Lena. She
frequently assured herself that she was rapturously happy, but, while
intellectually she accepted the fact, no genial warmth pervaded her
consciousness. The entrance to her new life was too brier-sprinkled for
bliss. Daily to face her mother's mingling of complaisance, self-pity
and fault-finding; to meet Dick's friends, whom Lena, in her suspicions,
regarded as thinly-disguised enemies; to scrimp together some little
show of bridal finery for her quiet wedding; all this filled her with
mingled irritation and gratification.

Most aggravating of all were the persistent attentions of Miss Madeline
Elton. No one likes to be loved as a matter of duty, certainly not Lena
Quincy, whose shrewd little soul easily divined that this equable warmth
of manner, which she dubbed snippy condescension, sprang from affection
for Dick and Mrs. Percival and not for herself. Madeline set Lena's
teeth on edge, and it must be confessed that Lena often did as much for
Madeline, but each politely kept her sensations to herself. Miss Elton
always assured her optimistic soul that things would come out all right,
that love was a great developer, that small vulgarities of mind were the
result of association.

Lena, on the other hand, might have broken friendly relations once and
for all except that she found Miss Elton both useful and interesting. A
friendly and very sly conspiracy between Madeline and Mrs. Percival had
for its object the helping out of Lena's meager trousseau by certain
little gifts, and even of money delicately proffered so that it might
not wound a sensitive pride; and since Mrs. Percival was a victim to
invalidish habits, it fell to Madeline to act as executive committee.
But they need not have troubled themselves about delicacy, for Miss Lena
greedily gobbled everything that was offered to her, with pretty
expressions of gratitude, to be sure, but internal irritation because
the donors were not more lavish.