"Well," she began, "Uncle Allan was a minister, you know. A Presbyterian of the sternest stuff, rich in eloquence and power of argument, but poor in this world's goods. However, he judiciously fell in love with Matilda Greene, the only daughter of a wealthy Baltimore merchant. As was natural, Matilda chose for her wedding-gown a gorgeous robe of white satin, and all the preparations for the event were on a lavish scale. When the day came and the guests had assembled, and the bride in her beautiful gown and lace veil appeared before the eyes of the bridegroom, Uncle Allan created a sensation by sternly declaring that such a dress was inappropriate for the bride of a humble minister of the Gospel.
"And the meek Matilda, instead of telling him he could marry her as she was or not at all, took off her satin, put on a simple muslin, and the ceremony was performed. Uncle Allan always referred to his wife as 'My Matilda'; and if the truth were known, I fancy she couldn't call her soul her own."
"I remember the story," said Allan, laughing. "We come of a stubborn family. What would have happened if Matilda had asserted herself?"
"He had her at a disadvantage,—the guests waiting,—but she missed the chance of a lifetime," said Miss Betty.
"Was Matilda fond of him?" asked Rosalind.
"Let us hope so; at any rate she always spoke of him as 'My Allan.'"
CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH.
AN IMPRISONED MAIDEN.
| "The house doth keep itself, |
| There's none within." |