Diana’s Wedding

           “Afterall,theonlyrealrosesarethepinkones,”saidAnne,asshetiedwhiteribbonaroundDiana’sbouquetinthewestward-lookinggableatOrchardSlope.“Theyaretheflowersofloveandfaith.”

           Dianawasstandingnervouslyinthemiddleoftheroom,arrayedinherbridalwhite,herblackcurlsfrostedoverwiththefilmofherweddingveil.Annehaddrapedthatveil,inaccordancewiththesentimentalcompactofyearsbefore.

           “It’sallprettymuchasIusedtoimagineitlongago,whenIweptoveryourinevitablemarriageandourconsequentparting,”shelaughed.“Youarethebrideofmydreams,Diana,withthe‘lovelymistyveil’;andIamYOURbridesmaid.But,alas!Ihaven’tthepuffedsleeves—thoughtheseshortlaceonesareevenprettier.NeitherismyheartwhollybreakingnordoIexactlyhateFred.”

           “Wearenotreallyparting,Anne,”protestedDiana.“I’mnotgoingfaraway.We’llloveeachotherjustasmuchasever.We’vealwayskeptthat‘oath’offriendshipwesworelongago,haven’twe?”

           “Yes.We’vekeptitfaithfully.We’vehadabeautifulfriendship,Diana.We’venevermarreditbyonequarrelorcoolnessorunkindword;andIhopeitwillalwaysbeso.Butthingscan’tbequitethesameafterthis.You’llhaveotherinterests.I’lljustbeontheoutside.But‘suchislife’asMrs.Rachelsays.Mrs.Rachelhasgivenyouoneofherbelovedknittedquiltsofthe‘tobaccostripe’pattern,andshesayswhenIammarriedshe’llgivemeone,too.