I ran down-stairs early the next morning and told my mother of my
invitation, and of my acceptance of it.
She seemed a little surprised, then, after a pause, she said she was
pleased.
"Go, and have a good time, Rosamund," she said; "it is quite right that
girls should enjoy themselves; but oh! my love," an anxious shadow
coming across her face, "what have you got to wear?"
"Plenty of things, mother," I retorted, "lashin's and lavin's, as they
say in Ireland."
"But you have no evening dress, Rose. At Mr Gray's the girls are sure
to dress for the evening."
"Oh, I can manage," I said.
"But you have _not_ got an evening dress, my darling; all the girls will
have evening dresses."
"One girl must do without," I retorted in a stout voice which concealed
many qualms of the heart.
"One girl must _not_ do without," replied my mother. "Come with me,
Rosamund. Rose, did I ever show you my wedding-dress?"
My mother laughed gaily; her eyes were bright.
"I did not know your wedding-dress was in existence, mother," I said.
"Yes, it is, and well preserved," she replied. "Come up-stairs with me,
and you shall see it."
I followed my mother into her bedroom. She unlocked a great square
wooden trunk, which stood in one of the windows, and laying aside many
folds of tissue paper, took from the depths of the trunk a brocaded silk
dress of heavy make and rich texture. She laid the dress on the bed,
and looked at me with pink spots on each of her cheeks.
"There!" she said; "there! Geoffrey gave me the dress, and he saw me in
it. You may suppose that Geoffrey knew how to choose good things. You
could not buy silk like that now. Geoffrey pinned a rosebud just here.
Do you notice the tiny, yellow stain? And then he kissed me on my
forehead. We were good friends that day, although Geoffrey, dear
Geoffrey, had a strange look in his eyes. I remembered the look
afterwards; but we were good friends, very great and affectionate
friends. I never saw him again--never. Well, Rosamund, what do you
think of your mother's wedding-dress?"
I was examining it all over. It was quaint in make, and the silk had
the faint yellow tinge which years of lying by always produces. The
sleeves were high and puffed. There was a ruffle of very soft and
exquisite lace round the V-shaped body. The waist was long, with a
pointed stomacher, and the skirt below was full and wide.
Never was there a dress less like the mode in vogue at the time of which
I write.
"The dress is out of date, perhaps, but it is very good in itself," said
my mother. "It will fit you, Rosamund, for your figure is small and
dainty, like mine used to be. Will you wear your mother's
wedding-dress, even if it is a little out of the fashion?"
"Yes, I will wear it," I said. "Give it to me, and I will take it away
with me."
"But you must have other things to match," said my mother. "Wait a
moment; you must have other things to suit the dress."
She rushed again to her trunk; she looked like a girl in her excitement.
"These are my wedding--shoes," she said, "and these white silk stockings
go with the shoes. This petticoat, with the deep embroidery, will have
to be worn under the full skirt of the dress. Oh, Rose, how glad I am
now that I did not cut this petticoat up! Rose, I should like to see
you dressed for your first dinner-party!"
I kissed my mother, gathered up the poor old-world mementoes of lost
youth and love, and ran away to my own room. I took with me on my visit
a larger trunk than I had at first intended, for my mother's wedding
silk must not be crushed or injured.