"You understand, Emilia," he said. "We are to be married this morning."
"Yes, Gerald," she said softly, "I understand."
It was Gerald's wish that no one should accompany them to the office. The witnesses, of whom there were three--Leonard, the doctor, and the old wagoner--were to wait for the couple, and to make no demonstration whatever. The ceremony was to be perfectly quiet, and the registrar with a twenty-pound fee, managed this so perfectly that not a soul in the place with the exception of those present at the marriage, was aware that it was being performed.
When Emilia said to Gerald, "Yes, Gerald I understand," he looked with heartfelt hope and gladness into her face. There was already a new note in her voice; her soul was struggling to the light. They passed a poor woman with a baby in her arms and some withered violets in her hand. Emilia turned and gazed at the poor creature and the infant. Gerald took some gold pieces from his pocket and pressed them into Emilia's hand. She gave him a sweet look. The light was coming.
"Will you sell me two bunches of your violets?" said Emilia.
"Take them, my lady; two bunches for a penny."
The woman held out her hand, but Emilia, before she paid for the flowers stooped and kissed the little child. Then she dropped the gold pieces into the woman's palm.
"Oh, my God!" cried the woman, with a bewildered look, her fingers closing tightly on the gold.
As they walked along Emilia gave Gerald one of the bunches of the withered violets, which he put into his buttonhole, and she pinned the other bunch to the bosom of her dress. Then she lowered her head and touched Gerald's hand with her lips.
"My darling, my darling," murmured Gerald, with moist eyes, "may I live to brighten all your future life!"