They did not linger long at table, but soon left it and returned together to the drawing room.
They had scarcely seated themselves when the door bell rang, and in a few moments afterward a card was brought in and handed to Mr. Rothsay, who took it and read:
A.B. Crawford.
"Show the judge into the library and say that I will be with him in a few moments," he said to the servant.
"He is one of the judges of the supreme court of the State, dear, and I must go to him. I hope he will not keep me long," said Mr. Rothsay, as he raised the hand of his bride to his lips and then left the room.
With a sigh of intense relief Cora leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
People have been known to die suddenly in their chairs. Why could not she die as she sat there, with her whole head heavy and her whole heart faint, she thought.
She listened—fearfully—for the return of her husband, but he did not come as soon as he had hoped to do; for while she listened the door bell rang again, and another visitor made his appearance, and after a short delay was shown into the library.
Then came another, and still another, and afterward others, until the library must have been half full of callers on the governor-elect.
And presently a large band of musicians halted before the house and began a serenade. They played and sang "Hail to the Chief," "Yankee Doodle," "Hail Columbia," and other popular or national airs.