Tom caught her again and kissed her. "And there was plenty to look at you, I'll bet."
"Yes, plenty," Rose admitted, with a dash of her old coquetry.
Then hand in hand, like two happy children, they walked down the lane to the church; and Tom stood and handed the flowers, which Rose's deft fingers arranged round the font. And all that miserable past seemed blotted out, and a future of perfect happiness seemed opening out before them. Just as their task was finished, and they stood side by side admiring their handiwork, the church door was softly pushed open, and Mr. Curzon entered. Real joy flashed into his face as he recognized Tom Burney, and saw that Rose was with him; but the words of greeting were very simple.
"So you've come home, Tom?" he said, as he heartily grasped his hand.
"For a bit, sir—just for a week or two."
"And you will take out Rose with you, I expect?" with a kindly smile at the pretty, downcast head.
"Well, yes, sir; that is my meaning. And we were thinking, she and I, as we would not feel rightly married unless you was kind enough to come and marry us."
"And that I will gladly."
"You're the best friend as ever I had," said Tom speaking with some effort. "And if I've kept straight and got a good name, it's you I have to thank for it."
"No, no," said Mr. Curzon; "God alone could do that. I may have chanced to be the sign-post that directed you to Him. Shall we thank Him now for bringing you back, and pray that He may bless your life with Rose?"