She looks in the cheval-glass which draws forth Mrs Jenkins' admiration, and thinks she has seldom seen anything so pretty as the reflection of her own person in her bridal dress.

She hastily dries her eyes, and turns round and round several times to assure herself that all is right.
'Ah! Howel is knowing everything!' says Mrs Jenkins.

'Silks and laces, and flowers, and worked-handkerchiefs, and all as white as a lily! And your cheeks a deal redder than any I do see here along! My deet! but you do be looking genteel.' 'Do I look as if I had been crying, aunt ?' asks Netta, wetting her eyes with lavender water.

'I'm afraid of Howel and those grand people.

I wish he hadn't asked them.' 'Oh, for sham! Netta.