Chapter 29

"Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is set On the fair
daughter of rich Capulet; As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;
And all combined, save what thou must confine By holy marriage."

ROMEO AND JULIET.

The morning chosen for the nuptials of Eve and Grace arrived, and all
the inmates of the Wigwam were early afoot, though the utmost care
had been taken to prevent the intelligence of the approaching
ceremony from getting into the village. They little knew, however,
how closely they were watched; the mean artifices that were resorted
to by some who called themselves their neighbours, to tamper with
servants, to obtain food for conjecture, and to justify to themselves
their exaggerations, falsehoods, and frauds. The news did leak out,
as will presently be seen, and through a channel that may cause the
reader, who is unacquainted with some of the peculiarities of
American life, a little surprise.

We have frequently alluded to Annette, the _femme de chambre_
that had followed Eve from Europe, although we have had no occasion
to dwell on her character, which was that of a woman of her class, as
they are well known to exist in France. Annette was young, had
bright, sparkling black eyes, was well made, and had the usual
tournure and manner of a Parisian grisette. As it is the besetting
weakness of all provincial habits to mistake graces for grace,
flourishes for elegance, and exaggeration for merit, Annette soon
acquired a reputation in her circle, as a woman of more than usual
claims to distinction. Her attire was in the height of the fashion,
being of Eve's cast-off clothes, and of the best materials, and
attire is also a point that is not without its influence on those who
are unaccustomed to the world.

As the double ceremony was to take place before breakfast, Annette
was early employed about the person of her young mistress, adorning
it in the bridal robes. While she worked at her usual employment, the
attendant appeared unusually agitated, and several times pins were
badly pointed, and new arrangements had to supersede or to supply the
deficiencies of her mistakes. Eve was always a model of patience, and
she bore with these little oversights with a quiet that would have
given Paul an additional pledge of her admirable self-command, as
well as of a sweetness of temper that, in truth, raised her almost
above the commoner feelings of mortality.

"_Vous êtes un peu agitée, ce matin, ma bonne Annette_," she
merely observed, when her maid had committed a blunder more material
than common.

"_J'espère que Mademoiselle a été contente de moi, jusqu' à
present_," returned Annette, vexed with her own