"Nonsense!" she said gaily, "don't you see it is all right."
We looked at her, she smiled kindly.
"You have written to him?" anxiously observed Cornelius.
"I have seen him this very day. You need not open your eyes. What are railroads and express trains for? Why should I not go via Thornton House, and give a look to Rock Cottage; for I trust you do not mean to follow the foolish cockney fashion of associating your honeymoon with hotels and long bills. I shall never forget the impression I received, when Mr. Foster said to his wife with whom he ran away: 'Don't you remember, dear, how they cheated us at that Hotel des Etrangers?' 'Yes, dear,' she replied, 'but you know they were twice as bad at the H?tel d'Angleterre.' Poor things, it was ten years ago, but they had not forgotten it yet."
"Kate," interrupted Cornelius, "what about Mr. Thornton."
"Why nothing save that he seemed inclined to be merry, and said if he had reflected there was a woman in the case, he could have foretold at once what would become of the secret. Don't you see, you foolish fellow, that he only meant this as a bit of humiliation and punishment for you. But that if he did not want you to marry Daisy, he would not have allowed her to be here. For my part I like him, and did not find him so very grim. He showed me his books, instruments, and when I left, hoped he should see me again."
"That is more than he ever did for any one," I said astonished; "Kate, you have made a conquest."
She looked handsome enough for it, and so Cornelius told her. She laughed at us, and bade us mind our own business. More she did not say then, but it came out a few days later that Mr. Thornton had told her the sooner Cornelius and I were married, the better he would be pleased. As this was precisely the feeling of Cornelius and Kate, I yielded.
We were married very quietly one sunny summer morning; then we bade Kate adieu for a fortnight, which we were to spend in Rock Cottage. It was her darling wish that we should go there, and we gratified her.
I remember well how strangely I felt when we reached my old home, now ours. It was not a year since I had left it, but it seemed ages. Everywhere we found touching tokens of the recent presence of Kate, and of her thoughtful tenderness. The sun was setting; we watched it from the beach beneath the pine trees, and never—so at least it seemed to me, and it cannot have been a fancy of mine, for Cornelius said so too—never had the sun set more gloriously, or the sea looked more beautiful than on this the eve of our marriage day.