"Listen to me, Craven, my dearest. This is Monday night, you know."
"Yes," he said, attentively.
"On Wednesday morning I am to start for Philadelphia."
"Oh!" he exclaimed, uneasily.
"Hush! Wait until you hear me out. You must meet me in Philadelphia on Friday morning. And we will be married on Friday noon."
He was struck speechless, breathless, for a few moments with the excess of his delight.
Then he panted forth the words:
"Oh, bless you! Bless you, my queen, my angel! I bless you for this great joy!"
"You must be calm, my dear, and hear me out. You must be punctual, and meet me on Friday morning at ten o'clock, at this address," she continued, handing him a slip of paper with the address in question written upon it. "There; now put it into your pocket-book and keep it safe."
"I will—I will, my queen! But why may I not go with you?"