"I believe—well, I believe it has not seemed long. Yes, I must have slept sometimes."
And Horace slipped the old engagement-ring upon the naked finger.
"You may bring in breakfast, John."
And this time the breakfast was hot, the appetites were sure, and, without champagne, the party was merry.
Lucy Lander told the fate of Baltasar. Jane Foryth asked where the Saratoga trunk was, and Hester produced the check from her own pocket.
At the crossing at New Dutzow the Cleopatra was detached from the express-train, and, to the marvel of waiting Buckeye boys, passed up on the virgin rails of the Scioto Valley Line, unaccustomed to such wonders. A special engine was waiting. A short hour brought the merry party to Kiowa Centre. There was Horace's buggy, there were carriages galore, and a more modest procession than that of yesterday took them to the Methodist meeting-house.
And there Asbury Perham, who told me the end of the story, asked Horace Ray if he would have this woman to be his wedded wife. And he said, "I will."
And there the existence of Hester Bryan, my pretty friend, under that particular name which she had borne from her infancy, ended.