Margaret Hayley took the slip and read, what writer and reader may be pardoned for looking over her fair rounded shoulder and perusing at the same moment—this satisfactory and significant item:
MARRIED. Rowan—Vanderlyn.—On Wednesday the 9th inst., by Rev. Dr. Rushmore, Major Halstead Rowan, of the Sixth Illinois cavalry, to Clara, daughter of the late Clayton Vanderlyn, Esq., and Mrs. Isabella Vanderlyn, of Calvert St.
"She was a sweet girl, and he was one of nature's gentlemen," said Margaret. "I saw enough to know how dearly they were in love with each other before they left the mountains; and I am glad to know that they have had their will, in spite of"—and here she lowered her voice, so that Mrs. Burton Hayley could not possibly hear her—"a proud, meddling mother and a brother who should have been sent back to school until he learned manners!"
"Oh, Rowan told me that he was going into the army, before he left the Crawford," answered the happy lounger. "You see he has done so and become a Major, and that makes him gentleman enough even for the Vanderlyns. George!—what a dashing officer he must make! Some day, when I go back to the army—"
"When I let you go back, mad fellow!"
"Some day I want to ride a charge with him, side by side. He was the boldest rider and the most daring man I ever knew."
"The bravest that I ever knew, except one!" said Margaret Hayley, stooping down her proud neck and for some unexplainable reason stopping for an instant in the middle of her speech. "And he had even the advantage of that one in a very important respect."
"And what was that, I should like to be informed, my Empress!"
"He knew it!"