"Oh, I'm so glad!" said Betty. "And let me whisper a secret: I always loved Charles more than Harrington. Charles is a dear!"
Dawn's eyes shone with her deep joy.
"Oh, do you?" was all she could say, but she wished she dared tell Betty that she was a dear also.
Then her little sister-in-law went away and left her to wash her hands and smooth her hair for supper, and in a moment Charles came in.
Dawn stood in the middle of the room, looking about, her eyes shining, the firelight glimmering over her dark hair and bringing out the green lights in the silk frock she wore. She looked so young and sweet and dear as she stood there alone, taking in the picture of her new home, that Charles paused to watch her, and then came softly up, and folded his arms reverently about her, drawing her close. It was a long, beautiful moment of perfect bliss, the memory of which stayed with the two through all that came afterward. Then their lips met and sealed the sacredness of their union.
But Betty's voice broke in upon the joy:
"Charles, the supper is getting cold, and you know I told you to bring her down at once. Come quick!"
Reluctantly they prepared to go.
"One minute, Betty!" Charles called. "I must wash my hands first!"
"Charles, you know you are just admiring your wife, and not hurrying a bit," called back saucy Betty. "Do make haste. I want to admire her myself."