"I understand. You're a chip off the old block. You're just as stubborn as I am. And—I—won't—eat—my—words."
With firm hand, he drew away and hurried from the boat.
The Taylor clan of Kentucky gathered for the wedding in force. The romance appealed to their fancy. They loved their high-spirited, self-poised little kinswoman and they liked the tall, modest, young officer she had chosen for her husband. The stern old Colonel was not there, but his brother and his three sisters and all their tribe made merry at the wedding feast.
On the deck of the lazy river steamer, the bride and groom slowly drifted down the moonlit shimmering way to the fields of Mississippi.
The bride nestled close to her lover's side in the long sweet silences too deep for words.
He took her hand in his at last, and said tenderly:
"I've something very important to tell you now, my dear—"
"I'm not afraid—"
"You trust me implicitly?"
"Perfectly—"