Rachel was to be married to Frank Bell in a fortnight 's time . Mrs. Spencer was pleased with the match . She was very fond of Frank , and his farm was so near to her own that she would not lose Rachel altogether . Rachel fondly believed that her mother would not lose her at all ; but Isabella Spencer , wiser by olden experience , knew what her daughter 's marriage must mean to her , and steeled her heart to bear it with what fortitude she might . They were in the sitting-room , deciding on the wedding guests and other details . The September sunshine was coming in through the waving boughs of the apple tree that grew close up to the low window . The glints wavered over Rachel 's face , as white as a wood lily , with only a faint dream of rose in the cheeks . She wore her sleek , golden hair in a quaint arch around it . Her forehead was very broad and white . She was fresh and young and hopeful . The mother 's heart contracted in a spasm of pain as she looked at her . How like the girl was to -- to -- to the Spencers ! Those easy , curving outlines , those large , mirthful blue eyes , that finely molded chin ! Isabella Spencer shut her lips firmly and crushed down some unbidden , unwelcome memories . `` There will be about sixty guests , all told , '' she said , as if she were thinking of nothing else . `` We must move the furniture out of this room and set the supper-table here . The dining-room is too small . We must borrow Mrs. Bell 's forks and spoons . She offered to lend them . I 'd never have been willing to ask her .
The damask table cloths XXXXX the ribbon pattern must be bleached to-morrow .
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