Patty-Bride by Carolyn Wells — Read

Patty's bedroom was a pretty, cheery and charming place. The sunlight came in through delicate, lacy curtains, the furniture and appointments were all that a fastidious taste could desire, and the pictures and trinkets scattered about were beautiful and attractive. There were always fresh flowers in the vases and the whole effect was conducive to happiness and contentment.

Yet across the lace-covered bed was the outstretched form of somebody who had flung herself there in a very abandonment of woe. Somebody with golden curly hair, from which the boudoir cap had fallen unheeded; somebody who was digging a little wet mop of a handkerchief into eyes that flowed with tears like a very freshet of rain. Somebody who was shaking and quivering with great racking sobs that were all the more agonising because they were silent.