Not a word had she spoken to her newly made husband, but as they alighted he whispered—“You don’t regret, my darling?”
She gave him a quick, shy glance, but it satisfied him. They had to wait for the congratulations of the intimate friends and guests, but at last Mavis whispered, “Come, dear, it is time for you to change into your other frock.” Quietly the bride left the reception and changed into her other gown. Tenderly she bade her father good-bye.
“Good-bye, my little one,” he murmured, “Mitzor take care of you. In forty Kymos I shall come for you. Be happy in your new life.”
“Good-bye, my father.”
“Good-bye.”
“You will find everything in readiness at the House of Roses,” said Waz-Y-Kjesta.
There were renewed cheers, the band played—and the comfortable equipage drove off, bearing the happiest couple in all Keemar.
“My darling,” murmured Alan, when they were at last outside the town, and running swiftly through quiet country roads. “Are you sure you won’t regret this day?”
“Never, my Alan,” she replied, her eyes smiling as she nestled close to her husband—“but Alan, I think I am a little frightened all the same.”
For answer he crushed her in his arms, and rained passionate kisses on her unresisting lips—and it sufficed her. She was content.