All Is Not Gold That Glitters by Ann Maria Hall

Never had the bells of Abbeyweld, within the memory of living man -- within the memory of old Mrs. Myles herself, and _she_ was the oldest living woman in the parish -- rung so merry a peal as on the morning that Helen Marsh was married to the handsome and Honourable Mr. Ivers. He was young as well as handsome -- honourable both by name and nature -- rich in possession and expectancy. On his part it was purely and entirely what is called a "love match" -- one of the strangest of all strange things perpetrated by a young man of rank and fashion. His wealth and position in society enabled him to select for himself; and he did so, of course, to the disappointment of as many, or perhaps a greater number of mothers than daughters, inasmuch as it is the former whose speculations are the deepest laid and most dangerous in arts matrimonial.

Every body was astonished. Mrs. Howard -- Helen's "kind friend" -- Mrs. Howard, little short of distracted for three weeks at the very least, did nothing but exclaim, "Who would have thought it!" "Who, indeed!" was the reply, in various tones of sympathy, envy, and surprise. Poor Mrs. Howard, to the day of her death, never suffered another portionless beauty to enter her doors while even the shadow of an eldest son rested on its threshold. Mrs. Myles was of course in an ecstacy of delight; her prophecy was fulfilled. Helen, _her_ Helen, was the honourable wife of a doubly honourable man.