"'Tain't right," said Aunt Moll, with an oracular shake of the head; "dar's sumfin wrong, somewhere. Don't b'lieve Miss Sibyl would 'prove of it, nohow; dese yer young men ain't to be trusted nowadays."
"It's nat'ral Marse Drummin' would get tired o' one gal—mos' young men do—and take up wid anoder, for a change. I'd do it myself," concluded Lem, in a pompous tone.
"You would?" said his mother, in high dudgeon; "as if any gal 'd look at you, you brack fool. Marse Drummin' will get hisself inter a hornet's nest, if he trifles wid de 'fections ob Miss Sibyl. I's come to de disclusion to conform Miss Sibyl ob his goings on, soon as ebber she arrives. Dar!"
And having thus settled the matter to her own entire satisfaction, Aunt Moll descended to the kitchen, and soon forgot all sublunary things in the celestial bliss of smoking a short, dirty pipe, as black and stumpy as herself.
Meantime the erring young pair were swiftly skimming over the bright waters in the direction of Westport. The labor of rowing precluded the possibility of conversation, and both were silent and thoughtful. Urged on by his intense desire of completing what he had so successfully begun—urged on, perhaps, by Fate—the boat seemed fairly to fly over the sparkling, sun-bright waves.
Ere the last ray of sunlight had faded from the sky the boat touched the opposite shore; and drawing Christie's arm within his own, Willard set off rapidly in the direction of the town of Westport.
And having reached it, he led Christie in the direction of a little obscure Methodist chapel, while he left her to seek for a license and the clergyman.
In a short time he returned with both, and without asking any unnecessary inquiries, he hastened through the marriage ceremony; and in a few moments the passion-blinded young couple were man and wife. Then hastily paying the clergyman his fee, Willard led his bride from the church.
"My bride! my wife! my own forever, now!" he cried, with passionate exultation, folding her to his heart.
But just then, with a sharp, piercing cry of thrilling horror, Christie sprang back, frightfully pale—with dilating eyes and choking breath, gasping, stifling, suffocating.